Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom
by ToManyLetters
Summary: Join Harmonia N. Puckle, Terry Gardner, and the Weaklebees in a ride through the most tangled parody in Circe knows how long! Not all is well at Pigzits School of Twigwiggling, The Snark Lord Holeyshorts is coming back... out of the closet.
1. Prologue Thingy: That Kid

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**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

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**Prologue Thingy – That Kid**

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To say that Terry Gardner was your average boy was enough to have you carted off to the asylum. Terry Gardner was the furthest thing from normal. 

It is completely true, of course, that there are many reasons for this. Many reasons, it would seem that a certain old man is well aware of, certain reasons that said old, decrepit fart would not even disclose to me, the narrator.

You see, one seemingly random day-after-Halloween morning, a certain not-as-old woman found a poorly-wrapped kid placed on her doorstep. Poor thing, too. She doubted she'd ever be able to completely rid the porch of the stain from the child's drool. She pondered punting the child across the street to the neighbour's yard, but, when a particularly cheery donut-wielding police officer passed by her lawn, she sighed and dragged him in by the left ear.

She stared at the boy for several minutes, her foot itching to have a go. But, the thing _was _quieter than her own son...

"Euthanasia, where is our..." began her husband when he walked down the stairs, his enormous arse wobbling like a poorly made cup of gelatin dessert. "What is that _ghastly_ thing?"

"This _ghastly _thing," mocked Euthanasia, "Happens to be a child of some sort."

"A child?" Springy, her fat oaf of a husband, said, "Well, haven't we already got one of those?"

"Perhaps this one is a new model?" she asked in reply, prodding the child with her enormous left index finger, scrunching her nose up in disgust as the child sneezed on her hand, then looked up at her with a mischievous grin.

'Well," Springy said, stepping behind her and leaning downward to get a better look at the ball of flesh, "Did it come with an instruction manual?"

Just then, for dramatic emphasis, Euthanasia's finger prodded something quite dry and paper-like. Pulling it out slowly to annoy all the readers and make her chubby husband's heart beat faster (Hey, if he had a heart attack, the insurance money was all hers), she discovered it was a pink envelope with thin, silver text written neatly on its front.

"Well, what does it say?" Springy asked impatiently, clutching the left side of his chest, "What does it say!?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Springy Deadbrains, Fourteen-hundred and twenty-six Bush Street, Winchester, Hampshire." Euthanasia read aloud, her eyes widening at just how much this paper knew.

"How did it know?" Springy asked in both fear and amazement. "How does it know our name?" he cleared his throat, "You've not been clicking on those pop-up ads again, have you?"

Euthanasia blushed slightly, "Well..." she lowered her head. "Maybe just a few..."

Springy grumbled, then motioned for her to open the envelope. Instantly, with her sharpest nail, (which, consequently, happened to be the nail of that very same left index finger) she sliced the letter open, revealing a sickly beige parchment. Golden writing adorned the surface of the letter,

_Mr. and Mrs. Springy Deadbrains,_

_It is my utmost pleasure to inform you that Euthanasia's sister was brutally murdered yesterday, so you get to keep their son safe for the next seventeen years while I do all sorts of cruel and unusual things to the boy and tell them its all in his mind._

_You are to raise him as you would your worst enemy, make sure he eats, but not enough to make him happy, because we all know what a menace happiness can be. Be sure he sleeps in a room that is full of spiders and is very small. Preferably, he could share a room with your brooms or the unlaundered clothing._

_Be certain to beat him repeatedly with a long, wooden cane. This way, when I send my enormous giant that's really only a half-giant because he can't be the biggest for dramatic effect, he'll want to come along without even thinking about all the absolute rubbish shooting from his mouth._

_Oh, and if any guys come knocking on the door with long, black robes and silver or golden masks, just smile and wave._

_Oh, and remember, duct tape and French fries will save our bacon!_

_Owlbus Humblebore,_

_Pigzits School of Twig-waving and Other Things We Can't Mention in a Story that is Rated T._

"Well, that certainly was informative."

"Shall I get the wooden cane, then?"

"Oh, I do think so."

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**A/N: Okay, so this is a pilot chapter for a story I am considering doing. If you found at least part of this amusing, leave a review telling me what part(s) was/were so I know what kinds of comedy to incorporate. I do have lots of material for later in the story, but, right now, for this part, I'm rather limited. Also, if you have any ideas to add to the parodical value of the story, feel free to share them in a review. Duct tape and French fries will save our bacon!  
**


	2. 1: Zebra Post

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**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

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**Chapter One – Zebra Post**

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The first thing Terry Gardner did each morning was swish a finger through his mouth to fish out the cobweb that, with its awful taste, marked the beginning of a new day. 

Brushing the spiders from his eyes, Terry stood and stretched. Pulling himself out of his pyjamas, Terry crouched over the potato sack that served as his dresser and retrieved a random set of clothing and pulled it on.

Terry looked down at the fading white text that read "Will Eat For Food" against the murky brown of the shirt, a permanent bloodstain above the 'i', and sighed. It was roughly three sizes too large for him, but, as everything for him did, it would just have to work.

Terry had begun to get the inkling suspicion that his Aunt Euthanasia and Uncle Springy didn't like him very much. When asked with regard to this concern, his aunt had responded, face alive with a manic smirk, that, "Oh, don't be silly." she had laughed rather viciously, "If we didn't love you we'd have fed you to Porker years ago." she motioned to her enormous son – he was roughly the size of an adult whale, and when his spaghetti dangled from his mouth as he choked and turned blue, looked strikingly _identical _to the marine creatures.

Walking over the dog bed he'd been afforded for sleeping, which he often had to fight for control of when Aunt Marginal came to visit, Terry left the confines of his broom cupboard and slinked semi-quietly over to the dining room, where he was met by Porker. The enormous tub of lard's eyes were alight with amusement, the leftmost corner of his lips pulled upward into a demented smile he smacked a highly-polished oak stick against the palm of his hand.

"Got it for him today," Uncle Springy said cheerfully, "Porker'll be attending Smellthings starting this year!" He patted his son on the shoulder affectionately and took a proud, smiling stance.

"Will I be going to Smellthings, too?" Terry asked with a false sense of hope. He really didn't want to be stuck in the same school with that menace of a cousin of his.

Almost instantly, Porker's Smellthings Stick crashed into the back of Terry's knees, causing him to hit the floor with a sickly thud.

Uncle Springy laughed derisively, "_You_?" he paused to take a breath between his chuckles as his wife and son joined in on the fit of giggles, "Go to Smellthings?" he rolled his eyes dramatically.

"You'll be going the public school with the rest of _your _lot." she nearly spat, dipping a pair of tongs into a steaming pot that was releasing a distinctly rank odour. "As soon as I'm finished with these."

Terry struggled to his feet and walked cautiously toward his aunt. Leaning forward and on his tip toes, he bent his head to see a bubbling pink mass. "What _is _that?" he queried, almost afraid to ask. Hmm, take that back, he really _was _afraid to ask, even after doing so. "And why is it pink?"

"It's lavender," corrected his Uncle Springy. "Honestly, don't they teach you lot anything about the colours in school?"

Terry groaned, nodded, and rolled his eyes in turn, finally crawling away from the stove to stare out the window. Terry could hear his adoptive family scooting chairs about for breakfast. He could even hear Porker's chair whine under the enormous boy's weight.

"POST!" demanded Uncle Springy from the neighbouring room, "Get the post, boy!"

Taking a deep breath, secretly wondering if he had more value than as a slave for this family, Terry sauntered toward the door to find a zebra standing on two legs in the open doorway, somehow clutching a large beige envelope with its left hoof, a carrier bag slung over what Terry assumed must be its shoulder.

"Well, you can stop staring," said the creature, bending its head downward to look directly into the boy's eyes, Terry jumped in startledom.

"You... can talk," Terry pointed out rather stupidly. As the Narrator, I'm entitled to insult the character. Luckily, he can't do anything to me. Isn't that wonderful? "You're a zebra...and.. you...'"

"I can't talk, yes," the zebra nodded impatiently, waggling the envelope in front of Terry's grasp, "Come on, kid, I haven't got all day, more post to deliver." He cleared his throat loudly, shoving the letter into Terry's chest. "Well, take it!"

Keeping his eyes focused on the striped face of the creature before him, Terry distractedly took the envelope from the zebra's hoof and took a step backward. Before he could so much as utter a word, the zebra was gone and the door was closed.

The letter, however, was still in his hand. Pocketing the letter for later, as he could use something to do other than count the twelve-hundred thousand, four-hundred and twenty-two strands of the spider web in the north-most corner of his cupboard, Terry jumped greatly when his uncle shouted again,

"WHERE IS THE RUDDY POST!" he growled, his fist slamming loudly against the table he sat at, causing the silverware to clink and clank against the other dishes at the table. "I swear, an _owl _would make a better postman than that bloody boy." he complained, "WELL?"

Terry raced back to the door and grabbed a pair of plain envelopes from the letter slot. Fighting to control his breathing to cover his exertion, he smoothed his clothing out and walked nonchalantly into the dining room and handed the letters to his uncle, taking a seat across from his cousin.

"Daddy!" Porker whined, extending his bottom lip like a small child, "Terry is _happy!"_ he sniffed and grumbled.

"You know what to do to fix _that _problem, Porkers." Springy said with a nod toward Terry. Instantly, Porker picked up his stick and landed a blow to the top of Terry's head that could be heard in the United States.

* * *

Terry rubbed his head tenderly, it still hurt from where his cousin had hit him earlier in the day, but, at least, the blood had finally dried. 

It was now dark outside, Terry could sense by the way the spiders were now out and about. He shifted slightly on his dog bed, his elbow brushed against something dry and papery. Instantly, he recognized it as the envelope he'd stashed away earlier. Mighty clever of him to do that, he thought, if he'd have taken it into the dining room with him, his uncle would have likely shredded it and smirked.

Rubbing his finger against the blood-red wax seal of the letter, Terry gently slid his nail under the wax. With a very faint detaching click-like noise, the envelope opened and two pieces of parchment slid out onto the ground – each a disgustingly cheery shade of pink.

_PIGZITS SCHOOL  
OF TWIG-WIGGLING AND OTHER THINGS WE CAN'T MENTION IN A STORY THAT'S RATED T_

_---_

Headmaster: Owlbus Humblebore

(Mail-Order of Circe, First Charm, Supreme Muggydump, International Confederacy of Whizzers.)

_Dear Mr. Gardner_

_We are please to inform you that you have been accepted at Pigzits School of Twig-Wiggling and Other Things We Can't Mention in a Story That's Rated T. Please find enclosed a list of unnecessary trinkets and decorations you will be required to present upon arrival._

_Term begins on September 2nd, because September 1st isn't good enough. We await your reply by Zebra Post no later than August 1._

_Yours Serenely,_

_Pallas Weaver,_

_Deputy Headmistress_

Terry looked up over the letter and blinked three times before returning his gaze to the pink page. Something very strange was going on. Something very, very strange indeed. First, a _zebra _showed up to deliver his mail, then... that letter had been _this._

He really did need to eat a few less of those purple-spotted mushrooms.

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**A/N: Hopefully this chapter was tolerably hilarious. I thought this was a decent place to leave of while I write another chapter for Apotheosis, some fans will be crying for my blood to find out where Sarah Aragon is... Anyhoo... tell me what you think, review!**


	3. 2: Speaking of PurpleSpotted Mushrooms

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**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

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**Chapter Two – Speaking of Purple-Spotted Mushrooms**

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Roughly kneading his forehead was something of a custom for Terry Gardner. Every few days or so, he'd wake up hopelessly sore from some new impact Porker – or rather Porker's Smellthings stick, had had on his forehead. The triangularly-shaped groove, a mere inch from his left temple, had certainly deepened over the past several days. Whilst he was growing increasingly used to the pain, it still was alarming when random spurts of blood trickled down his face, bloodying up his eyebrows considerably. He'd always been one for fashion, especially the 'out-of' kind. 

Terry had been contemplating whither the letter from the _school, _if the place really existed, that is, was, in fact, some sort of hoax or was a genuine letter from a genuine school that just happened to have fiction rating references in its name. (Though Terry did have a deep feeling from somewhere within telling him that '_And Other Things We Can't Say in a Story That's Rated Teen_' was hardly likely the actual second portion of the school's name.)

Nonetheless, Terry waited by the door each day to gather the post in the hopes that the Zebra would be ready to take his acceptance letter – anything to get him far, far from this place was welcome. He was uncomfortably aware that whilst things like concentration camps were not likely to be favourable, they would, at least, get him away from the Deadbrains, his dopey relatives whom he was forced to serve like a House-Elvis, what ever those were.

Terry stared out his window – or, rather, the crack in the net of spider webs netted across his east-most wall that allowed a glance at a refreshing bit of pine. It was rather comforting to observe this spot, he mused. It was the one spot that had been scarcely touched by neither human hand or arachnid alike. For good reason, of course. The exposed wires did have a bit of power to dissuade possible candidates, but, all the same, ... well, there you have it.

Something rather pink and fleshy broke Terry's relaxing staring contest with his favourite spot on the wall. Its enormous, protuberant eyes stared back at him, occasionally batting its lengthy white eyelashes before emitting an tremendous belch.

"What..." Terry began before forcing political correctness on himself, "Who are you?'

The pink _thing _(that's really the best description Terry could come up with, you see) leant forward slightly, turning what could be assumed to be its head so that it could place itself closer to Terry's ear. Stifling another belch, the creature began to speak,

"Master Whizzer Gardner, Sir." he squeaked. The voice was unbearably high. Most like a cruel teacher drawing her nails against the chalkboard, "Dolly is here with a message, sir."

"And what would that be, Dolly?" Terry responded apprehensively. He hadn't had any of his favourite purple-spotted mushrooms in days, so this had to be real, right? Then again, there was that positively grotty looking ham (that's what he'd told himself, at least) sandwich he'd snatched from the bottom of the fridge.

Before the _thing_ could answer, a shiny light blinded Terry momentarily. Blinking repeatedly in a rather vain attempt to regain his vision, the young boy jumped slightly when he caught sight of a creature nearly identical to the first, where it not for the fact that it was purple and distinctly female. As per custom with these creatures, it gave an ear-splitting belch and fell to the ground.

The first creature spun around in annoyance and began to speak angrily with the second. "Drinky, you knows yous is not supposed to be comings along on this!"

Hiccuping more gently, the purple creature smile. "Me knows, Dolly." She took to her feet and looked the first directly in the eye, "No House-Elvis is supposed to be away from its," it cleared its throat loudly, "_Master."_

"Dolly has served _Master _enough for today, Drinky." He began to initiate an argument.

Not wanting to have to listen to their bickering as he had heard plenty of it from the Deadbrains, Terry cleared his throat importantly and re-asked his question, though he suspected he'd already heard the answer.

"Who are you?" he questioned, starting briefly at each of the creatures before him. The purple creature, Drinky, wiggled its ears slightly before speaking.

"We is House-Elvises." she responded simply, then hiccuped when she attempted to continue. "Me is Drinky; this be Dolly." she pointed to the very pink creature beside her.

"Nice to meet you Drinky... and Dolly." Terry said politely, suddenly unsure of how to handle the situation. "Did you say you were House-Elves?"

Dolly shook his head and his right pointer finger in unison. "No, sir." he croaked, "You is mishearing us, you is." he took a step forward and slapped Drinky's back as she emitted yet another belch. "We is House-Elvises."

Terry wasn't even going to pretend to understand that one. No more grotty-looking possibly-maybe-could-be ham sandwiches either.

"Why... exactly... are you here?" Terry queried. He was starting to be a little worried, too.

Dolly walked over and stood, only an inch or so before Terry's face, then spoke. "Dolly is being here to tell you something." He said simply. These House-Elvises did tend to stick to that whole 'simply' adverb. Perhaps things were _simpler _that way.

"And what, exactly, was that something?" The young boy inquired, raising an eyebrow as the Dolly's shoulders sank.

"Dolly is not remembering, sir." the House-Elvis said sadly, "But if Dolly is remembering, Dolly will tell you."

"Potatoes," Drinky said quickly, suddenly very excited.

"POTATOES!" Dolly responded, shouting at the top of his lungs. "POTATOES, POTATOES."

Circe, he hoped his uncle didn't hear any of this.

"DOLLY REMEMBERS, SIR!" Dolly exclaimed happily then slapped Terry, hard.

Terry's eyes widened.

"What the bloody hell was that for?" he whined, covering the newly sore part of his face tenderly.

The House-Elvis just grinned. "Nothing sir." Dolly said, bending down slightly, "Dolly was just being excited sir." he belched once again, in unison with Drinky, "Next time Dolly will use rock, sir. Far more effective."

"Effective at _WHAT?"_ Terry whined.

"Dolly is not remembering, sir." the House-Elvis said sadly, once again, "But if Dolly is remembering, Dolly will tell you."

"Potatoes?" Drinky hiccuped. She looked rather flushed for a pink ball of skin.

"Oh," the first House-Elvis squeaked, then slapped Terry once again.

Terry was starting to get a little angry.

"WHY do you keep slapping me!?" Terry growled, ready to strangle the thing before him.

"Nothing, sir." Dolly said plainly, crouching down on one knee. "Dolly was just being excited, sir." Again, he belched. "Next time Dolly will use ro---"

"You've said that already." Terry interrupted irritably.

"Dolly has, sir?" the House-Elvis asked innocently. "My, my." Dolly tsked himself, then took a very grave face. "Terry Gardner must not go to Pigzits School of Twig-Wiggling and Other Things We Can't Mention in a Story That's Rated T this year. Wonderful things are about to happen at Pigzits."

"What?" Terry said confusedly, standing a little too quickly, crashing his head on the loose board above. He was knocked out instantly.

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**A/N: Okay. That... was a very odd, strange chapter even by my standards. This parody will constitute a mess of material from all seven of the books in the series at once, meaning some things will grow more and more ridiculously absurd. Hope you enjoyed. TML**


	4. 3: The Asterpants Escapee

**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom****  
**A _Harry Potter _Parody

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Chapter Three – The Asterpants Escapee

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Terry blinked repeatedly to moisten his dry eyes – somehow he'd slept with his eyes open. For some strange reason, his forehead was incredibly sore. Groaning, Terry sat up and swallowed – apparently his eyes hadn't been the only part of his anatomy to dry out, his tongue and throat felt like sandpaper.

His room, if it could really be called a room, was in slight disarray. A board that had once hung from the ceiling had come off completely at the foot of his dog bed, it's rusty nails were pointed upward menacingly, begging to cause injury. Terry had an eerie feeling that even if he disposed of the hazard, it would find its way to haunt him later. Things always did.

"'s good ter see yer awake." said an excessively deep voice. Perhaps the speaker was constipated and had yet to hear of Miralax? "You ready ter go?"

The man speaking was absolutely enormous. He was nearly twice as wide as he was tall, which was quite the feat - he was roughly the height of the double-decker buses that ran through London. He was crouched down, his hands on what Terry guessed were his knees, staring expectantly at him for an answer.

"Erm," Terry began, "Who the ruddy hell are you?" Terry was not known for his subtlety.

The giant, it seemed, had expected the question. Scratching his head, he smiled at Terry and extended an outrageously humongous hand.

"Rubybutt Hackered's the name," was his response. His already wide eyes widening more, Terry took one of the man's fingers and shook it. "And I am here to get ya out o' here." Cautiously, Terry observed the man.

"But I wasn't able to send my letter," Terry reasoned aloud, "How did you know to come get me? The Zebra never came to take my post."

At these words, Rubybutt laughed loudly; Terry could hear several of the glass plates in the kitchen rattle slightly. Where his aunt and uncle were he hadn't the slightest clue – but if by some lucky chance this giant had offed them, he'd have to thank him later.

"Zebras carry post," he chuckled, snorted, then wiped a rogue bubble of snot clear from his nose. "Zebras don't carry post!" He laughed harder still. "What are you on, kid?" Rubybutt gave him a serious look. "You've not been eating any purple-spotted mushrooms, have you?"

"Not lately," Terry mumbled, the giant didn't seem to hear.

"'Cause they'll do all sorts of things to yeh." his laughter died down some, "Like see House-Elvises and crazy shit like that." he grimaced, "You have seen them, haven't you?"

Terry didn't move.

"Well, anyway," Rubybutt continued, "We use swallows for the post." He smiled and began walking toward the porthole, "An swallow can travel far, you know."

Almost instinctively, Terry blurted, "African or European?"

Hackered glowered. "Look kid, I'm bein' serious, here." He cleared his throat and motioned for Terry to collect his potato sack of clothing, "This isn't some Muddy film from the 1970s."

"What is a Muddy?"

"A non-whizzer person."

Terry blinked repeatedly, this time, not for hydrating his eyes – but, rather, because he had no clue as to what the ruddy hell this man was talking about. As for why he was following a complete stranger out of a place that, while torturous, was both home and for the most part safe (though strangely dangerous), he didn't know.

"So," Terry said slowly, throwing his potato sack of belonging over his shoulder, "Why, exactly, am I going off with you? I don't know you and you haven't given me the slightest hint as to where we are going."

"You're a whizzer, Terry." he cleared his throat nervously, "So, now, it's your turn to learn how to save the world."

"Save the world?" What was this? Some child's fairy tale? Terry hadn't any special abilities or fantastic weapons or supreme uber godliness, how was he supposed to save the world? Did the world even need saving?

"There is a man, Terry," Rubybutt began, "that wants you dead."

Terry snorted. Yeah, he could think of at least two. His uncle and cousin. So why was Rubybutt stating the obvious?

"It's not somethin' ter be laughin' at, Terry," Hackered growled, glaring at Terry. "I ain't jokin'." He leant down till he was right in Terry's face. "He wants you dead."

"Why would he want me dead?" Terry humoured, much to the giants delight.

"Haven't you ever wondered about the dent in your forehead?"

No. He hadn't. He knew Porker had been the one to put it there. "No," he replied simply.

"Never, at all?" Hackered actually looked a little confused.

"No," Terry repeated.

"Well, I'll be."

Rather than continue on with the conversation, Rubybutt smiled widely and began walking toward the front door of the house.

"Who is it that wants me dead?"

Before he opened the door, Hackered turned around and faced Terry. His look was almost grave in his appearance. From his pocket, he pulled a sickly-green paper and unfolded it, showing its contents to Terry in a very solemn manner.

WANTED : JO KING WHITE

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?

There was a picture between the question and what looked to be a solid block of text. Undoubtedly, the picture was of the man referred to on the head of the paper.

NOTORIOUS MASS-MURDERER JO KING WHITE HAS ESCAPED FROM ASTERPANTS PRISON. THE DEMONDOORS OF THE PRISON ARE REPORTEDLY OUT LOOKING FOR THIS FELON. WHITE WAS ARRESTED AND SENTENCED TO LIFE IN ASTERPANTS AFTER THE MASS MURDER OF ONE-HUNDRED AND TWENTY THOUSAND LIVING CREATURES (FOUR OF WHICH WERE HUMAN) SIXTEEN YEARS AGO. OF ONE VICTIM, ONLY A NOSE WAS FOUND AT THE SCENE. WHITE HAS BEEN REPORTED AS SAYING "HE'LL BE IN PIGZITS IF THAT FAT RETARD DOES HIS JOB!". WE AT THE _SMELLY PORT-A-POTTY_ ARE VERY CONCERNED AS TO WHAT THIS MEANS AND SO SHOULD YOU. HE ALSO HAS BEEN, REPORTEDLY, KNOWN TO MAKE FANGIRLS SWOON. WE URGE ALL FANGIRLS TO REMAIN INDOORS WHILST WE PRETEND TO HANDLE THIS MATTER.

Terry looked up at the large man before him and swallowed.

"This is the man that wants me dead?" Terry asked. Hackered nodded grimly.

He really hadn't had any of the purple-spotted mushrooms lately. _Really_.


	5. 4: The Snark Lord Holeyshorts

* * *

**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

* * *

**Chapter Four – The Snark Lord Holeyshorts**

* * *

To say the last several days had been eventful would have been a thorough understatement. First, he'd been greeted at his aunt and uncle's front door by a post-carrying zebra and _then _he'd been happened upon two of the strangest creatures in the space of the house he'd been permitted to call his room. They'd called themselves House-Elvises, a strange name indeed. But now, perhaps the strangest of all of these occurrences was a giant man by the name of Hackered Rubybutt. 

To make strange things stranger, Hackered had offered to help get him out of his uncle's house. Where, exactly the giant was taking him was unknown, though Terry had pretty much assumed it was to Pigzits. Hackered had known what Terry'd been referring to with regard to the letter, so it concerned him little.

Terry had his potato sack slung over his shoulder. He found himself pulling the corners of the bag closer to him as the cold night's air ate at his skin. This had to have been the coldest summer in all of Britain.

They'd walked in silence since departing from the place he once called home – or, at least, house. Terry had literally all of his belongings on him. His potato sack, for one, three shirts, each bloodstained or torn in the most inconvenient of places, two pairs of rust-coloured boxers, a pair of pants six-sizes too large, and an old and broken pocket knife that he'd found behind the clothes dryer several years before.

The questions running through Terry's mind were finally beginning to cause him some distress, just as he opened his mouth, Hackered stopped, causing him to crash into the man's enormous leg, then fall backward.

Rubybutt turned to face the him and smiled. "Well, this is the place." He was rather cheerful.

Terry gathered his fallen belongings, an incredibly difficult feat taking nearly fourteen seconds, then turned to look at what had Hackered so happy.

The building was old to say the least. It was made of bricks nearly the size of Terry's head, stacked together with long-worn mortar.

Terry looked at the giant without expression. "Is this Pigzits?" he asked curiously. The large man chuckled and patted Terry's back, ushering him into the building.

"'Course not, Terry," he laughed. "This is 'The Holey 'Ere', a tavern of sorts."

These words caused Terry to turn toward Hackered in confusion. "Why are we here, though?" Terry shifted the weight of the bag he carried as he felt the tip of his pocket knife through the sack. "What does this place have to do with Pigzits?"

"Nothin', really," Hackered responded simply, continuing to walk through the many rows of chairs in the enormous bar-like lower level. "We're only passin' through." He cleared his throat as softly as Terry figured the man could muster – a volume with still outdid even the most grand of trumpets. "We're 'eadin' to Dyzthengone Alley. Gots lots o' school supplies you'll be needin'."

"Oi! Hagrid!" A man shouted from the back behind the bar about five feet from where they stood.

"Wrong story," Hackered bellowed back. The man looked apologetic, pausing briefly in his wiping of glasses to grimace at the two.

"Sorry, Hackered, then," he said loudly over the clamouring of the taverns various denizens. "Is that Terry? _The _Terry Gardner?"

Rubybutt's smiled widened to an grin nearly as enormous as the man himself. "You bet your wand it is, Yp," Hackered laughed. The tavern went silent.

"_The _Terry Gardner," a man echoed. Terry could hear several more people breath his name. Now _this _was strange. A few of the people even got their bravery up and stood to walk toward him. One of them in particular, a crone who looked read to cough up both her lungs and give up life as a bad idea, stepped forward.

"Dahlia Smutchevy, my boy," her voice was high-pitched and scratchy. She took his right hand in her left, then patted it several times with her right. "Pleasure to meet you, my boy. I never thought I'd live to see the boy who defeated the Snark Lord," her eyes were alight with joy – at least that's what Terry wanted to believe it was. "The Snark Lord Holeyshorts was---"

She fell backward and died.

Yp, from behind his counted tsked as he wiped another glass clean. "She knew just as well as the rest of us did that that name's cursed." Yp cleared his throat importantly. "I guess she was ready to go."

"Oh," a man laughed mockingly as he rolled his eyes, slurring his words badly. "Don't go one about how the name's curse. The guy's dead."

"Probably said his own name," Yp mumbled.

"Right," the man chuckled. "It's so dangerous. Ooh!" He flapped his hands above his head like a teasing three-year-old as he stood quickly and forced a laught to echo through the room, "The Snark Lord Holeyshorts will - " he began before he fell backward and stopped moving.

"See," said Yp smugly. "I told him, I did. No one listens to poor Yp."

"He's not dead," another man said, hovering over the first man's body. "He's just passed out from having so much Margarinebeer."

"Strong stuff, that Margarinebeer."

"Whatever," the barman said, setting a glass on his black marble countertop. "I still say the name's cursed."

The man on the floor stirred and attempted to sit only to fail miserably. Instead, he shot his arm into the air, knocking out the man previously hovering over his body, and shouted.

"I'm not dead yet!"

Terry could swear he heard Hackered mumble something about "Muddy films" before he felt a tug on his shoulder leading him away from all of the commotion.

"So, I'm famous?" Terry asked cautiously.

"No," Hackered said instantly, "You're well known because you're a nobody."

Terry raised an eyebrow. "Right..."

The giant stopped before a wall of bricks that appeared nearly identical to the wall outside, save for the fact that several of the bricks were pressed inward slightly. In a seemingly random fashion, Rubybutt pressed several of them and waited for a moment.

"Is that how we get into Dyzthengone Alley?" Terry asked, hoping his guess would be correct.

Out of thin air, it seemed, two cups of some piping-hot drink appeared. "No, this is just a cleverly designed espresso machine." He handed Terry a cup, then pointed about ten feet to their right. There was a large red door with the words 'ENTRANCE TO DYZTHENGONE ALLEY' printed in a sickeningly cheerful shade of yellow. "That's the entrance, off we go."

Terry swallowed, but followed. Tilting the cup of espresso, he glanced inside to find that it was indeed filled with what the giant man had said. Very cleverly designed espresso machine indeed.

Hackered walked up to the red door and turned its golden handle. On the other side was an alley of shops and small businesses all crawling with life – hundreds, perhaps thousands of people all in long, flowing black robes or clothing of very similar fashion.

* * *

**A/N: Okay. I think I'll stop this chapter there... the next chapter should be the last before the material really picks up – but even next chapter should have some great moments. I hope you all enjoyed, please review. As always, if you have suggestions for material, feel free to include it in your review!**


	6. 5: Aboard the SumThin Express

* * *

**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom**

**A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

* * *

**Chapter Five – Aboard the Sum'thin Express**

* * *

Terry finished the last of his espresso and tossed the cup in the waste bin near the entrance of the shop, turning back around to see an extremely old man looking at him, staring him with abnormally large eyes and three blackened teeth. 

Hackered was no where in sight. Terry swallowed nervously as the man's warm breath sprayed out through his nostrils.

"I wondered when I'd be seeing you here, Mr. Gardner," the man finally said, taking a relieving step back. That didn't prevent Terry's throat from constricting, of course.

"Er – " Terry struggled, "who are you​?" He blinked a few times in the hopes that, were this another hallucination, it would vanish away.

When it didn't, however, he took his own step away from the peculiar man and cleared his throat.

"You can call me Mr. Ollyhandler," the man said, offering his hand. Terry stared at it for a moment before deciding to accept it and shake it. "Now," he turned around on his heel and marched toward the store counter, whipping around it as he faced Terry, "You'd be here for a wand." He put his hands on the marble counter top and smiled as he leaned forward.

"Er – " Terry walked up to the counter and nodded. At once, Mr. Ollyhandler disappeared – vanished, as though he'd never been there.

"So, I figured while you was getting' yer wand I'd get ya a lil somethin', what with ya bein' new to this 'n' all," came Hackered's booming voice as the shop door swung open and the giant crawled inside, carrying the cage of some creature – what it was Terry could not quite tell. "So I got ya lil birdie!"

Rubybutt made his way toward Terry, holding the cage up so that he could see the animal inside. The cage was empty. Terry grimaced, trying to force it upward into a convincing smile. He'd rarely been given anything – so though the cage was empty, it was nice to receive _something – _even if the giant man was too stupid to realise there was nothing in the cage

"Right, right," said Mr. Ollyhandler, suddenly re-appearing. "Try this wand. 9 3/4 inches, genuine birch, infidel eye core." He handed the stick to Terry. He wasn't sure what an infidel was, but he wasn't too keen to wave around a stick that contained its eye. Before he'd gotten the chance, however, Mr. Ollyhandler had whipped the wand out of his hand and offered him another. "14 1/8 inches, a rather jolly holly, bat guano core."

Terry didn't reach for the stick this time. "Bat guano?" His eyes widened, "That's bat crap, yes?" Mr. Ollyhandler nodded and pushed the wand in his direction.

"Yes," he said cheerfully, "Only the best crap, of course." He smiled and forced the wand into Terry's hand. "We used rabid bats, makes the wand a bit more _wild_, you see." Almost as soon as the wand hand entered Terry's hand, it left, and the wand maker had raced another to the new whizzer. "Okay, try this. Forty-seven and a half inches, made using maple, male unicorn – well, just try it." He offered the wand to Terry, who reluctantly took it in his hand, only to have it, once again, pulled away from him.

Mr. Ollyhandler walked back around the counter wearing a frown, stuffing the pole-like wand into a box before placing it on a shelf. "I wonder," he mumbled to himself, staring randomly at a pink-coloured box next to the male unicorn... wand. The man scratched at his chin a moment before removing the box from the shelve and setting it on the counter. Walking around it, he stood before Terry made an audible huff. Mr. Ollyhandler grabbed at Terry's crotch. Instantly, he, Terry, jumped away and squeaked in surprise.

"What?" he said innocently, staring at the boy in confusion. "I've got to make sure you've got the balls for a wand like this!" The wand maker nodded curtly several times in quick succession. "It would seem you do, by the way." He pulled the box open and took into his fingers a beautiful wand that shone in the torchlight. "Exactly ten inches, made from the branch of a weeping willow, beautiful tree if I do say so myself, and I do... rather strange core, too. A very rare, magical, rainbow sea trout scale."

Terry actually grabbed for this wand. The shopkeeper willingly dropped it into the boy's hands, covering his nose with his hand as Terry got a firm grip on the wood – and let out the largest fart in the history of mankind. "I didn't – "

"You did, actually," Mr. Ollyhander said, coughing through the fumes. "It's the wands way of telling you that it owns your arse." He waved his hand in front of his face many times, trying to shoo the stink away, "Circe, boy, what did you eat?"

"I haven't had a thing in a little over a day," Terry grumbled, a surge of hunger washing over him suddenly. "Honest."

Hackered dropped some disfigured coins onto the counter, allowing Mr. Ollyhander to pocket them as he turned to leave.

"It is curious, though," the shopkeeper said in a distant voice.

Terry turned his head to face the man. "Sorry, what's curious?"

"The magical, rainbow sea trout whose scale resides in your wand only had one other scale to give."

"Right.." Terry trailed off, "And this matters to me because..."

Mr. Ollyhandler shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, no particular reason, just thought I'd drop in a creepy plot device," He scratched his head and smiled as the two left the store.

* * *

Terry waded through the many people at Bling's Toss Station; Hackered had told him that he'd need to head to platform nine and three corners. It didn't make sense to him – at all. But Hackered supposedly had direly important business to take care of involving something "three whizzer" tournament and had said that the platform would be easy enough to find. Terry was groaning. The materials he was carting for school had to way close to a ton, he was barely able to push the trolley. 

His arms were aching and his shoulders stiff when he reached platform nine. There was a large brick barrier baring a sign that read "Platform 9", but no evidence of any platform nine and three corners.

He turned this way and that with his head, looking for _any _sign for his target, but his search was interrupted by a peach blur that crashed into him, flung its arms around him, and kissed him full on the mouth.

Terry stumbled backward, loosing grip on his cart when his attacker fell on top on him, squeaking softly. Instantly she jumped off him and offered her hand.

"Terribly sorry," the girl said. She had mid-length, dark-brown hair that curled slightly at its ends. "Hmm, I..."

Terry reluctantly took her hand to help him stand while she stammered terribly. "You're Terry Gardner," she finally managed, throwing her arms around him again. "You're famous." She rocked him back and forth cheerfully.

"Wh-" he managed through her tight embrace, "What – how – why?"

She placed her hands on his cheeks and kissed him again, this time, however, he pushed her away. "I don't know you – that's the second time you've.."

Harmonia took a small step backward and offered her hand. "Harmonia," she said quickly. "I'm Harmonia Puckle." She smiled widely. "I can't believe I finally have met you!" She squealed and did a small dance. "You're going to Pigzits, yes?" It was then that he noticed she, too, had a trolley full of school supplies, though it was behind her were Terry suspected she'd leapt from to _enthusiastically _greet him.

She took her wand out from her pocket, waved it briefly, grabbed Terry's hand and marched around the barrier. Terry turned his head to see that his trolley, like hers, was following him.

"Nice," he mumbled.

She beamed at his praise before stopping in front of a brick-coloured door. Terry reached for the handle, only to have her have cover his. She blushed, removing her hand as he turned the handle and made his way through the porthole.

He felt a strong urge to force his hand free of her grasp, but decided against it. However _eccentric_she was, she at least knew where she was going. He wasn't about to throw away his only resource for this magical world – and she certainly didn't act as though she were prepared to leave his side at any second as Hackered had done.

"Here we are," Harmonia said cheerfully. "This is the Sum'thin Express."

"It really is something, isn't it?" Terry said in awe.

The train looked beautiful. It had been painted in a shiny, candy apple red with a dark black streak down the centre.

"C'mon," she tugged on his arm, dragging him toward the train. He had to shake himself free of the spell the train had put on him. "The trolleys'll take care of themselves, c'mon." She picked up the pace and darted into the train and into the first empty compartment.

* * *

Harmonia had been more than enthusiastic about having met Terry, which he still couldn't understand, but was just fine with the attention. She was the closest thing to a friend he had – even if it was clear she wanted more. 

"Has anyone seen a man-eating rabbit?" came a voice from the compartment door. "A boy named Nositie Sretchtarse is looking for one." He put his foot into the door and stuck his head through. "Oh, you're Terry Gardner!" At once, he swung the door open and took a seat inside, kicking the door closed. "I'm Rongfore Weaklebee, but you can call me Rong – everyone does." He smiled slightly as though remembering something amusing. "Especially my brother, Dred."

He pulled a stick from his pocket that Terry assumed was his wand. "This is Badgy, by the way," he said cheerfully, watching as a rat ran out of his pocket and toward Harmonia who squeaked and clung to Terry for dear life, glaring at Rong.

"In fact, Dred gave me a spell to turn him yellow with white polka dots." He cleared his throat loudly and waved his wand in every which direction before finally settling on the rat as his target. "Moonlight lilies, creamy spite,"

"Spite is creamy?" Harmonia snorted, before relaxing against Terry. He found himself a little annoyed, but ignored the feeling.

"Turn this horny son-of-a-bitch into a kite!" The rats head spun repeatedly around for nearly a minute before settling back where it had been. Harmonia sniggered softly, pressing her face against Terry's chest. Now he wasn't just annoyed, this was a little awkward, too. She was pushing the limit of his tolerance.

"I think you got that spell _Rong."_ Harmonia laughed, "Really _Rong._"

Rongfore just glared at her.

The door to the compartment creaked open. "Anything from the cart, dearies?" An old lady who closely resembled a toad smiled a crooked smile at each of them while she waited for a response.

"Er," Terry managed, then pushed Harmonia off of him to reach into his pocket. Hackered had taken him to a vault that supposedly contained _lots _of money from his dead parents and allowed him to withdraw what he could fit into the sacks to go into his pockets. "We'll take some of everything... three of everything, please."

Harmonia's eyes widened for the second time since he'd met her when she saw the countless golden coins in his hand. The second the lady'd taken the currency, Harmonia kissed him once again.

"Could you at least warn me before you do that?" Terry grumbled. Harmonia had the sense to look embarrassed.

The cart lady came back into the compartment with a sack of sweets, placing them on the cushion beside Terry. "Enjoy," she said giddily as she walked back out, sliding the door shut behind her.

Terry took the first sweet his saw from the sack, which, strangely enough, was in a pentagonal package.

"Oh, those are Chocolate Cow Patties." Rong said. "Each heap's got a famous whizzer." He settled himself, sinking backward against his seat. "Got about five-hundred thousand meself. Go on, open it."

Terry cautiously popped the package open, revealing a literal pile of crap, the edge of the card Rong had been talking about peaked out the edge of the chocolate. It didn't look at all appetising.

"This is chocolate?" Terry scrunched his nose up in disgust.

Carefully, Terry slide the card out from the Cow Patty and handed the rest of the package. Harmonia looked relieved he hadn't offloaded the crap on her.

Rong hazarded a poke at the patty. It responded by spitting a brown muck in his face, sprouting wings, and flying out the wing.

"Ug," Rongfore whined, wiping his face with the edge of his sleeve. "Who is it?"

"The Snark Lord Holeyshorts," Terry mumbled, only to have the card ripped out of his hand and into Rong's. "Hey!"

"No... effing... way..." He said excitedly.

"Yes, way." Terry said dryly. "See?"

Rongfore stared at the card in awe. "I didn't know he had a card." His shock turned into a huge grin. "Oh," he said in understanding, rubbing the card.

"It was covered in shit." Rong said immediately, his eyes skirting back and forth across the text on the card.

"Oh!" Terry exclaimed. "Well, who is it, then?"

"Owlbus Humblebore," was the dry response as he handed the card back to Terry. "I've got about three hundred of him."

"You've got a little bit of crap on your nose." Harmonia finally spoke after several moments of silence. It was a bit of a relief to hear her voice, Terry found. "Just there." She pointed at Rong's nose.

He followed her finger to where it pointed and smudged the chocolate around in his futile attempt to rid himself of it.

"Did I get it?" he asked hopefully.

Harmonia shook her head. Some of her hair brushing against Terry's face. "Hmm, no, just spread it around some."

He kept at it, smudging and smudging till his whole face was covered in the brown sludge.

"Did that get rid of it?" he asked again.

"No." Terry snorted.

"I always knew he was a shit-head." Harmonia mumbled, turning to Terry with a look in her eyes that scared him senseless. Instead of doing something terrible, she kissed him, once again, full on the mouth. Okay, so maybe it was something terrible. Terry was getting used to it, though, and decided to kiss back.

That surprised her.

And Rong.

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so this was a long chapter with a few decent cracks in it. Hopefully, you've enjoyed this chapter enough to leave a review. As always, thank you for reading!**


	7. 6: The Man Named Owlbus Humblebore

* * *

**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

* * *

**Chapter Six – The Man Named Owlbus Humblebore**

* * *

Harmonia responded twice as enthusiastically as he had expected. He wasn't sure, exactly, why he was surprised that she had responded – it was clearly something she'd been hoping for the entire time she'd been around him – and giving something like that to someone who wanted it, well, why not, right? 

"Let's do that again!" she squeaked excitedly, wrapping her arms around his neck so she could lure him into another kiss. The compartment door slid open.

"Oh," said the voice at the door, "Erm, was I interrupting something?"

Terry turned to face the girl. Behind her, several of her friends were gawking or giggling at the sigh he and Harmonia were providing. Her hair was tousled and her clothing dishevelled. Her face, however, was full of light and joy. The other girls noticed, and looked like succubi ready to rip it out of her and have Terry for their own.

"And who are you?" Rongfore said, watching them all cast their eyes on Terry in desire. He had a look on his face that was a cross between jealousy and nausea.

"Indy Indyano," said one girl, who looked very Indian; her tight-fitting clothes and high voice gave away her façade of bravery. Almost at once, she slinked back behind the leader of the group, watching as another one of her acquaintances stepped forward to introduce herself.

"Scarlet Gray," she said simply. She looked anxious to do something to touch him, but did nothing to follow through with any such action. Not that she'd had the chance, the leader of the group shoved her back roughly, stepped forward, kissed Terry on the cheek and held out her hand.

"Ho Bang," said the girl sweetly. Harmonia looked ready to kill. She pulled herself off of Terry, slumped backward, drew her wand from her cloak and brandished it at Ho.

"Keep your lips off my man."

"Oh, are you doing magic, then?" Rongfore said excitedly.

"And what," Ho Bang began, "gives you the _delusion _that he's _your _man?"

"I've only done a few simple spells," Harmonia said snidely, "but they've _all _worked for me."

The two girls behind Ho backed away slowly, fearing the worst.

"What's your name?"

"Harmonia."

"We shall see, Harmonia." Ho reaffirmed, taking a step out of the compartment, a delighted gin on her face. "We shall see."

Harmonia lowered her wand reluctantly. Setting it behind her ear for quick access, she rested herself against Terry and settled down.

* * *

While Harmonia would be up for a good snog with Terry any time of the day, she still chose to change in the girl's lavatory on the train, away from her favourite snog-buddy and Rongfore, who, now, were changing their clothes to their school robes. 

Terry slipped the dark green robes over his head, contemplating the many miracles it had taken him to get where he was at that moment, on a train with a girl who would do practically anything for him and several more who seemed just as willing.

"It's strange, you know?" Terry said, deep in though as he sat back down in his seat.

"What's strange?" Rong questioned, looking at Terry in slight confusion as he grabbed at the sack of sweets to grab a box of Humblebumble Honey Tart.

"All – this," he responded, "you know, that I'm a whizzer and all. I've never done anything cool like magic."

"Did you ever do anything you couldn't explain when you were frightened or scared?" Rongfore asked, once again looking at Terry with a look of confusion.

"I did pee on a cat," Terry said randomly, trying to think of something out of the ordinary that could, potentially, impress the kid that sat across from him.

"EXACTLY!?" Rong said excitedly, jumping out of his seat. His fist shot into the air in triumph of finding something magical about Terry, only to then be washed over with a look of bewilderment.

"Wait, you did _what_?"

"Pee on a cat," Terry repeated blandly.

"Now, there's a real whizzer, I tell ya!" Rong said happily as the door slid open and Harmonia re-joined them, taking a seat on Terry's lap. She leant backward and kissed his cheek.

"Circe, woman," Rongfore complained, "get a room."

In one swift move, Harmonia went from obsessive angel to malevolent harpy. She withdrew her wand from behind her ear, waved it in front of the Weaklebee boy and smiled as he turned into a newt.

"I thought you said you'd only tried simple spells?" Terry asked, suddenly slightly afraid of his _de facto_ girlfriend.

"I had, until now."

* * *

"You probably ought to, you know, change him back now," Terry said softly, flinching slightly as Harmonia took his hand and set her head against his shoulder. The train had stopped and they, along with the other students, were filing out from their compartments, eager to see the school they'd be attending this year. 

"Pallas can deal with him," Harmonia said dryly, watching as newt Rongfore scrambled in between feet, dodging trainers and heels of all kinds. Terry thought he saw the newt glare.

Uncertain as to how to remedy the other boy's problem, Terry walked off the train with Harmonia, grimacing at the newt that narrowly missed being squashed at least a dozen times.

Outside, the night was new. Darkness had not yet taken the sky – Terry could see an enormous palace in the distance, just beyond an equally massive lake beneath it. Harmonia smiled as they stepped forward, passing a large oak tree.

* * *

The large marble doors opened to the palace. Based on what Terry understood, and he was finding that to be increasingly little, this grand building was the school he'd be attending all year. It was bright and colourful and rather full of life. 

Elegant tapestries hung from nearly every corner of the interior. Lavender and violet floral arrangements adorned the bannisters leading to high in the palace, and a brilliant crimson rug laid the path to the great hall, where dozens of other students had already taken seats at one of four ring-shaped tables.

At the very far end of the great hall stood two figures. The first, a woman, looked grim and serious – a woman Terry knew instantly he ought not to cross. The other, however, a man perhaps in his mid-forties, wore a flowing pink cloak and overly large sun glasses. His thick, silver hair came down to his waist.

"Welcome, new students!" the older man said excitedly, walking over to the small group of children that had made their way across the lake on frozen badgers. "My name, as I'm sure you all know," he mumbled slightly, slurring many of his words together, "my name is Owlbus Humblebore, but," he hiccuped loudly, "You can just call me Humble."

"Humble, eh?" Harmonia giggled, "He wasn't quite this bad last year. He's a heavy user of the 'shroom. Especially the purple-spotted kind."

Terry looked at the girl clinging to him curiously. As he did, he caught sight of a newt scurrying past their feet on the ground.

"Oh, professor," Harmonia said loudly, looking directly at the woman beside the high headmaster, "Could you – please?"

"Another one, Ms. Puckle?" the lady asked the suddenly shy girl holding onto Terry's arm. "What would you do without me?"

Harmonia didn't miss a beat.

"Just leave him that way, actually, Professor Weaver."

There was a swirl of colour and whirring sound that rippled through the air, causing several people's clothes to turn inside out.

"SHE TURNED ME INTO A NEWT!" Rongfore shouted the second he was human again, turning to face Harmonia with an angry look on his face.

"A newt?" a tall boy with blonde hair asked curiously. He had a dark green and silver tag pinned to his robes with the name 'Athens Badfayth' on its front. He looked wealthy in every sense of the word.

"I got better..."

Professor Weaver shook her head and groaned, ushering, with her hands, for the extra students to take to their seats.

"Now, new students," she began, "_My_name is Pallas Weaver. I'd like to welcome you to our school and ask you to pardon our headmaster who is currently... not quite himself."

"JUST A LITTLE BIT OF PERIL?" the man named Owlbus Humblebore shouted loudly, clapping his hands together repeatedly. His eyes were alight with excitement.

"I swear I'm going to kill that Giant," Pallas groaned to herself, shaking her head again. She sighed, and waved her wand. "Now, before school can begin, each of you must be sorted."

* * *

**Author's Note: **A little drier than the other chapters, but, this is one that must be, sadly, used to advance the little plot the story has. Hope you enjoyed! 


	8. 7: The Sorting Crap

* * *

**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

* * *

**Chapter Seven – The Sorting Crap**

* * *

"Ah, yes!" Owlbus Humblebore belched rudely, practically dancing in his seat. His eyes twinkled with a sickeningly bright glimmer. Terry hazarded a look up at the man, who grinned back at him, then winked. "The sorting." 

Pallas Weaver took several steps forward; the heels of her shoes noisily hitting against the dark marble floor. She blinked several times in quick succession, placing her hands out in front of her. As she did so, the area before her began to glow a bright green and orange, emitting light as though through a thick fog.

There was the sound of a small explosion and the colours had disappeared. In their place was the largest pile of faecal matter Terry had ever seen – and never wanted to see again. It reeked like an exposed septic pipe.

"Now," Professor Weaver began, "before we can enjoy pigging-out on the many coma-inducing carcinogens prepared for us by our shroom-addicted House-Elvises..." She paused briefly. Terry stared at her with a wide open mouth. Had those strange creatures not been a mere hallucination? He was loosing his grasp on reality – if there really was such a thing. "... we need to have you sorted into your houses. While you're here, your houses will be like your family. You'll bicker and bitch about them, do naughty things with them and pray not to get caught, but, in the end, you're stuck with them 'cause that's how life is."

She smiled sweetly, looking at each of the unsorted students before her – she let her gaze linger on Harmonia for a while, urging the brunette with a twist of her neck to head to her table. Harmonia grimaced at Terry, kissed his cheek and walked away from him. Apparently, she was a returning student.

"Now, I have placed the Sorting Crap on the floor for you. This is quite, quite simple. You will jump in and be sorted. The houses are Lionarse, Snakepiss, Huffinsnuff, and Birdscat. Oh, and just a warning, if you don't belong here, you'll be turned inside out and blended into a smoothie."

Terry's eyes widened. It did _what?_What if he _didn't_ belong here? The letter – if there really had been one - could easily have been wrong. He may have managed to get here only by accident.

"When I call your name, you will step forward and jump into the Sorting Crap." She produced a large scroll from somewhere (Terry was slightly relieved he blinked when she removed them and, thus, was uncertain quite where) within her robes. "Abbey, Abigail."

A small girl with sandy blonde hair in pigtails shyly made her way through the small crowd of people staring at – or otherwise giving disgusted looks to – the enormous pile of turd before them. Terry could see her shaking slightly as she walked past him. He gave her a quick, comforting touch on the shoulder. She smiled at him weakly.

"In you go," the high headmaster said, motioning with his hand to the pile of crap before him. His full-moon sunglasses hung low on the bridge of his nose as he gave the girl a very sobering glance. She swallowed fearfully, scrunching her nose with disgust, and dove in.

And vanished.

"She's been blended!" Terry squeaked fearfully. A girl beside him with long, red hair smiled back at him and chuckled.

"No, she's just being sorted," she said confidently. The words left her lips in a terribly cheerful way. "It just takes a little bit of time, sometimes."

Terry nodded, an expression bordering between horror and awe present upon his face. She stuck her hand for him to shake.

"My name's Hickey," Hickey smiled. Terry could see the same glimmer in her eyes that shone in Harmonia's. The attention the fairer sex was giving him here was not unnoticed and was becoming increasingly distracting, unnerving, and, if he was wholly honest with himself, annoying.

"Terry," he mumbled in response. As he did so, the blonde within Sorting Crap shot out from within. She was almost completely clean and was, thankfully, free of blood. She landed at a seat full of people with bright yellow pins stuck to their robes - "Huffinsnuff" in a coal black.

There was a quick applause, then silence. Clearing her throat, Professor Weaver read the next name.

"Badfayth, Athens."

It was the boy that had doubted Harmonia's skill with the wand. He wore a smug expression and, placing his hands proudly on the ends of his collar, stepped forward and dove, head first toward the Sorting Crap.

He missed, banging his head on the ground instead. There was a roar of laughter as the smirk was wiped clean off his face. He stood in shame and walked into the the pile of faecal matter instead, quickly vanishing within its apparent depths.

"So," Hickey said in a drawn-out and sickly sweet sort of way, "are you, you know, seeing someone?" Her big brown eyes looked up at him hopefully.

"Yes," Terry said slowly, "I am."

She apparently did not understand. Squealing she jumped on top of him and kissed him full on the lips – much like Harmonia had done – but much more desperately.

Terry lifted his head from the floor to look at the girl now on top of him. She smiled at him.

"I've been wanting to do that for _years,_" she said excitedly, preparing to dive down for another taste. "I'm_quite_ a fan of yours."

"Isn't everyone," Terry grumbled, putting his finger to her lips. Her small, sexy but bony body was grinding into a tender part of his. He spoke clearly. "I told you, I'm seeing someone."

"What is this?" Professor Weaver said angrily, staring at Terry and the girl. "Both of you, up. _Now._" She put her hands on her hips and pursed her lips. Both of them scrambled to their feet. As she turned around to return to the sorting, Terry swore he could hear her say, "Can't even wait till they get to their dormitories to bone."

The boy named Athens shot out from the Sorting Crap and landed in a seat full of green-pinned people who looked equally as smug as he had. Rather than applause, he received several pats on the back.

"So, tonight work for you?" Hickey asked innocently.

"Hickey, I'm seeing someone," Terry repeated. She simply blinked at him. "Someone that _isn't _you."

_That _must have gotten through to her, he thought, dying a little inside as her bright smile faded. She pouted, turning away from him as she folded her arms.

"She doesn't have to know."

Professor Weaver called another name. "Cauturd, Millie." Noting that it wasn't his, Terry turned his attentions back to the girl beside him. Harmonia was seeming more the angel every moment.

"I'm not going to cheat on her, if that's what you're suggesting."

"How terribly noble of you, King Arthur," Hickey spat bitterly, refusing to look at him, "but I've heard your story before." She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "You still have to cheat on your wife by sleeping with your half-sister."

Terry vomited a little in his mouth, then turned to look at her more fully. A light sheen of sweat glistened from her brow in the candlelight.

"Are you suggesting you're my half-sister?"

"Not at all," Hickey replied immediately. "I just – "

"Gardner, Terry."

He could have sworn his heart stopped beating as he marched forward to what very likely was his doom. As he reached the edge of the rank-smelling mass, he prepared to jump in.

"Wait," Professor Weaver said quickly, putting her hand out to stop him. "The crap is pissed." She turned to her boss, the high headmaster. "Owlbus, I need some of your crack to calm the this, the crap, down."

She put her hand out toward him, waiting for, if Terry heard correctly, some of his crack.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Humblebore said firmly, slurring his words only slightly as he wiped some white residue from under his nose. "I've never touched the stuff."

"Put-Outer," she said firmly, motioning for him to give it up.

"I am not!" he hiccuped, "and I resent the implication!" He stood from his seat unsteadily, waving a finger around indignantly. "I – oh, you mean the – of course." He pulled a small, silvery object from his pink robes he wore.

"I rather like the lights," he said simply. "Seems a shame to put them out." Pallas Weaver grabbed the object from him and took a tight grip of it in her right hand. Placing her left on the tip, she squeezed firmly and began twisting.

As the top popped off, a spray of white powder shot upward into the room, most of it mushrooming upward and landing on the pile of crap. The sickening pile of nasty before Terry lightened some. Pallas nodded, noting it was time for him to go in. He lifted his foot and began to go forward when there was a scream from somewhere to his left.

"STOP!" a woman said, "I AM LAUREN MALHORRY AND THIS IS SATANIC!" She ran toward Terry as fast as her enormous rolls of blubber would allow – slower than Terry's most relaxed walking pace. "I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOUR DOING, AND I KNOW YOU'RE EDUCATING THESE CHILDREN, BUT HOLY FUCKING SHIT, YOU'RE DOING MAGIC! YOU'RE MOTHER-FUCKING EVIL BITCHES! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU BASTARDS!? DIDN'T YOU KNOW THAT WITCHCRAFT IS OF SATAN!? DIDN'T YOU KNOW!? OF COURSE NOT! YOU'RE ALL PAGAN'S HERE!"

"Who's she?" someone nearby whispered. Terry caught the conversation.

"Dunno," another replied. "Must be a queen."

"How can you tell?" the first person asked curiously.

"Hasn't got shit all over her."

"YOU'LL ALL BURN IN HELL! I LOVE CHILDREN AND WON'T LET YOU TOUCH THEM! THEY'RE ALL _GOD'S_ CHILDREN. I LOVE THEM, LOVE THEM, LOVE THEM! YOU'RE ALL JUST SICK BASTARDS, TRICKING CHILDREN INTO THINKING THAT MAGIC CAN BE _GOOD_! WITCHCRAFT IS EVIL – SO ARE ALL RELIGIONS THAT AREN'T MINE! I AM JESUS REBORN AND GOD INCARNATE, BITCHES!"

"Well, she's got the bitchcraft down," one of the boys from earlier groaned, watching as Hackered stood from the staff table and slinked into the kitchens. Terry was quite surprised to find that the doors here were all large enough for the man.

"Someone get this nutter out of here," Humblebore grumbled, snorting loudly with a finger near his nostrils.

"I WON'T TAKE YOUR ABUSE! I'M NOT CRAZY; I'M DOING GOD'S WORK!" the woman named Lauren Malhorry squawked. "I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU DO TO ME, I LOVE CHILDREN AND YOU CLEARLY DON'T – I WILL WIN EVENTUALLY!"

She was hit from behind with an very sickening thud. Hackered had smashed her head with a large fry pan. He picked her up and threw her from the palace.

"Think she'll come back?" Hackered asked as he re-took his seat.

"She's not appealing, if that's what you mean." Pallas said, once again ushering a now thoroughly terrified Terry to step forward. He swallowed thickly and stepped forward – this time without incident.

* * *

**Author's Note: **I think this is a good place to leave off for now. We shall see what happens in the Sorting Crap next chapter and will also be introduced to the wonderful students of Dumbstrangers School of Muh-Hiccups and the Cutestix Academy of the Well-Endowed. As always, I hope you enjoyed. Please review! 


	9. 8: Of Potatoes and Crap

* * *

**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

* * *

**Chapter Eight – Of Potatoes and Crap**

* * *

What he, Terry, saw was incredible. Rather than wading through an enormous pile of stinky mass, he was greeted by a short, gnome-like man in a paper bag that was just a hint large for him. Two enormous, protuberant eyes peeked out from a whole in the front of the bag. 

"What is your name?" questioned the man in the paper bag.

That wasn't too challenging a question, Terry thought, while trying to remember the answer. Blinking several times to clear his mind, he mumbled his name once, cleared his throat, and spoke it once more, clearly.

"What is your favourite colour?" demanded the short man.

Well, what a challenge, Terry laughed inside, once again he let the answer linger on his tongue for a moment before answering.

"Pink," Terry said proudly. The tiny man rose an eyebrow, but went on.

"And what is your quest?"

_Now_ the hard question, Terry groaned. He didn't have a quest. At least the question hadn't been something horrifically impossible like the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow. Seriously, who knows _that _kind of information.

But... a quest? The only thing in life in which Terry exceeded had been his successful arrival at Pigzits School of Twig-Wiggling and Other Things We Can't Mention in a Story That's Rated Teen.

"Your quest?" the man repeated impatiently.

"To... erm...," Terry stammered, using the first thing that came to his mind. "To discover the air-speed velocity of an unladen swallow?"

Again, the man in the paper bag raised an eyebrow, but nodded.

"What is this place?" Terry asked, looking around at his mysterious surroundings. "Does this place actually exist, or am I in some sort of drug-induced trance?"

"I'll be asking the questions here," the man grumbled as he pulled a clipboard from behind his back and began scribbling rapidly. "Yes, yes..."

"What is it?" Terry wondered aloud, leaning forward in an attempt to peek at the man's notes.

The man glared.

"Right, you ask the questions..." Terry trailed off.

"One last question," the being began, "what was the best television series ever to be cancelled before it had a chance to prove itself?"

Terry face-palmed as he had not watched more than a few seconds of television in his entire life. The little knowledge he had concerning the matter was useless – he could only remember the jingle of an online furniture retailer.

"I... don't... know, sir," Terry swallowed thickly, ready to meet his doom. He would not be at all surprised if this would disqualify him from entry in the school.

"Well, no Birdscat for you, then," he flipped quickly through the pages on his clipboard. "The answer I was looking for was _Wonderfalls_, by the way. You may want to remember that in the future."

Terry nodded curtly, looking at the man as if he were about to turn inside out and explode.

"Sna - Lionarse it is," the man said quickly, dropping his clipboard and waving. "The name's Dwarfie Dartstring, I'll be teaching your _Lucky Charms_ class." He waved again and Terry felt himself floating upward and outward and, suddenly, in a new seat back in the Great Hall, beside Harmonia who leapt on him and kissed him happily.

"Oh, I was beginning to worry that you'd never come!" she breathed. "Li Streme went in and her head exploded!" Harmonia said excitedly, then grimaced, changing her tone immediately when she saw Terry's facial expression, "Probably best you missed it..."

"Weaklebee, Hickey," Professor Weaver called. The girl who'd been chatting him up earlier stepped forward, merrily hopping her way to the Sorting Crap singing the words "it's Terry I'll marry" as she bounded inside.

Terry turned to his other side where Rongfore sat, a string of drool running down the arm that held up his head as he stared at Harmonia.

"Is that your sister?" Terry asked, snapping Rongfore out of his trance. He shook his head quickly, drying the drool with the sleeve of his robes.

"Hmm?" he mumbled, "yeah. Her name's Hickey."

"We've met," Terry said dryly. As he did so, Hickey shot out from within the Sorting Crap and landed atop Harmonia, who had already claimed her spot nestled against Terry.

"We're destined to be together!" she squeaked excitedly without even bothering to open her eyes. As though it were instinct, she leant forward to what she clearly thought were Terry's lips.

Instead, she was met with a surprisingly quick slap. Apparently, Harmonia wasn't interested. Hickey crashed to the floor below, earning several obnoxious giggles from the Snakepiss table.

_"Mine," _Harmonia said possessively as Hickey stumbled back up to regain composure. She stood, hand held to the spot where Terry's _de facto _girlfriend had delivered the most impressive slap he'd ever seen, with her mouth wide open at the offending female in Terry's arms.

Hickey glared at Harmonia for a moment, but wandered off to a spot further down the table like a wounded fox.

The moment Hickey took her seat, there was a loud noise, much like an explosion. At first, Terry thought that the crazy Lauren Malhorry had mad her way back to the palace, but was surprised to find a very different set of people stood in between the large, double doors.

"Padmus!" Humblebore squeaked merrily, dusting off his moustache.

"I can smell the plot device," Harmonia grumbled, rubbing her face against Terry's chest.

"Welcome our friends from an non-divulged, secret place, and possibly non-existent school, our good friends, the lovely ladies of the Cutestix Academy of the Well-Endowed and their headmistress, Padmus Maxi!" Pallas Weaver shouted over the surprise from the students.

"Originally met her on superhottransies dot co dot uk," the headmaster, Owlbus, revealed. "Small world, isn't it?"

Professor Weaver gave him a thoroughly disgusted look, but turned to face their guests.

A woman roughly the size of the Tower of Pisa came through the door. She certainly had the leaning aspect of the tower down. The buttons on her..._its... _large, black raincoat were fluffy and pink, much the way rocks are not. Though Padmus' hair was lengthy and her figure buxom, _she _was decidedly still _very _masculine.

The rest of the crowd that filed in behind Headmistress Maxi, however, were _very _feminine. Everything about them screamed oestrogen, and it was no surprise that, like Rongfore had done with Harmonia, every other male in the tables, including a few of the staff, particularly Humblebore himself, were drooling quite heavily. Terry suspected, however, that in Humblebore's case, it was less likely the females that tickled his fancy and more the newly cut purple-spotted mushrooms below his rather large nasal cavities.

"As if we needed more foreigners who happen at being fluent in English," Harmonia grumbled as yet more people, all males, lined up behind a rather pale looking man in who appeared to be standing under a bear. Closer inspection revealed that it was some fancy native coat. Native to _where _Terry hadn't the slightest.

"I give to you the - "

Before Professor Weaver could speak, the students standing in the door behind the bear-covered man raced into the great hall, their twigs before them as they made a show of blowing fancy-shaped fire all over the room. It was rather starting to smell like smoke.

"Dumbstrangers School of Muh-Hiccups," Professor Weaver groaned. It was several minutes before the men stopped their showing off. The man in the bear took many slow steps toward the front of the school toward Humblebore.

"Albus!" he said in a low, gravely voice.

"Owlbus," Humblebore corrected simply, brushing the remnants of his mushrooms on the ground below him. "You foreigners never could quite get it right." He smiled viciously.

"Please,_Albus," _the man repeated, "call me Gitskild Barfsalot."

The man returned Owlbus' positively demented smile in a most menacing fashion.

"That Tree-Whizzer Cup is Dumbstrangers' this year, old man," he said quite clearly. His accent was barely noticeable.

"We shall see," Humblebore responded.

At that moment, a potato flew in the Great Hall from the kitchen, much as potatoes ought not, zipped by Weaver, Humblebore, and Barfsalot, only to hit a skinny fellow with a neatly wrapped turban on his head. His body lost its strength and, as though in a film, his face fell forward and crashed into his empty place.

"Is he dead?" someone asked.

"Stick a fork in him," another shouted.

As though it were the bright thing to do, Humblebore picked up his favourite utensil, his fork, and buried it in the man's back. Terry flinched, but the man did not move.

"He's dead!" the headmaster shouted.

"And if he wasn't," Harmonia said knowledgeably, "he is now." She nodded and smiled, ignoring the horror in Terry's eyes. He had just seen a man killed by a potato.

* * *

**Author's Note**: I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Updates for Owlbus Humblebore will be much more frequent now that _Apotheosis, _my other project, is completed. I look forward to your thoughts regarding this chapter in a review! 


	10. 9: The Strangest Way to Choose

* * *

**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

* * *

**Chapter Nine – ****The Strangest Way to Choose a Champion**

* * *

It seemed that no one had been fazed by the professor's death. The man who went by the name Strangie Shudder had been struck in the head by a potato and had been killed on its impact. Madame Pompous, the nurse, declared that, had the spud struck any lower, the poor lad would have been decapitated.

As Terry let the grim of the situation run through his thoughts, he overheard a few silent whispers of several enthusiastic females behind him. The death didn't seem to bother any of them. They had more important matters to discuss. Trying his best not to bother Harmonia in her comfortable state, he turned to face them.

"What you do reckon, then?" said one girl, fidgeting with something under her sweater. She let out a soft gasp, but Terry seemed to be the only one to notice. The rest of the crowd instantly went into full-blown chatterbox mode.

"Eight inches," another whispered, leaning into the huddle of girls seated across from Terry.

"Oh, I'm thinking nine."

"Not even Humblebore has nine," said Scarlet Gray, who apparently had also been sorted into Lionarse.

There was a moment of hushed whispering before one of the braver girls of the group decided to raise her head and speak up.

"How do you know _that?_" she asked Scarlet in a hushed tone of voice, raising an eyebrow at the redhead. Without missing a beat, Scarlet responded.

"I've got to pass _some_ way," she chimed. Terry rather hoped she was joking, but her expressions hinted otherwise.

"I thought he only liked men," another added. The group went silent for a moment, staring at Scarlet as she smiled widely, setting her head down on her hands in an almost annoyingly cute fashion.

"He swings both ways under the influence." This comment received several excited _oohs_ from the gang of girls in the vicinity. Even Harmonia bothered to look up and began to listen to the conversation, though at a particularly awkward time, seeing as their chatting went back to its original topic.

"So... eight and a half inches, then?"

"Nah, definitely nine."

"Why don't we just ask him?"

"Are you kidding?" a rather ugly wench asked, knowing the answer would likely be a snide hint to the negative. "You don't just ask a whizzer a question like that!"

"I do." Scarlet said simply. "All the time, actually." Her voice became a little airy and her eyes glazed over. It was as though she had slipped into a deep trance. "Usually right before we – "

"Go for it, then, I guess..."

"Terry," Scarlet asked, snapping back into her usual bubbly self. (Well, Terry assumed that her 'bubbly' self was her normal self. He didn't really know her all that well and for all he knew she could have several 'selves' to speak of.)

Terry was already facing her, but took the liberty of pretending to have not been listening.

"Hmm?"

Harmonia glared; whether she was jealous of Scarlet or just didn't like that she was talking to _her _man was unclear. Her distinguished jaw line made itself know as she sat up some and her soft, long hair brushed against Terry's face.

"Terry, how long is your wand?" Scarlet asked, ignoring Harmonia's obvious disdain for her, choosing instead to bat her eyes seductively at Terry. He could have sworn he could hear Harmona's knuckles pop.

"Ten inches," Harmonia said snidely with a smirk. There were several gasps from the girls surrounding Scarlet – obviously the need to resupply their heads with a sufficient flow of air was keeping them busy.

Terry blinked innocently, not quite understanding the significance of what was going on. Harmonia seemed to, though, and smiled.

"You've measured?" several of them responded as their air-to-head ratio was again proper.

"I've seen it a few times," she exclaimed in an obviously mocking tone.

Scarlet wheeled around, chattering away with the many in her circle.

"Ten inches! I _told _you!"

"He can be _my _hero."

Harmonia shifted in Terry's lap, causing him _discomfort_. In a blindingly fast motion she threw her hand down onto the table, glowering at each of the girls opposite her as though _ordering _them to be silent. It seemed to have worked. Harmonia, Terry was learning, had nearly as much power as the staff did – at least among her peers.

Terry glanced up at the headmaster. Humblebore was using a stiff, square piece of paper to shift some oddly gray dust around on the table in front of him. As he became satisfied with its arrangement, he grinned a quirky grin, put the tip of his nose to the table and snorted loudly.

"Four score and... about... five seconds ago," Humblebore stood and began one of his many inspirational speeches, "our... _woo-hoa..." _he lost his balance for a moment, landing in professor Weaver's lap before he, once again, stood and addressed the audience. At first he spoke in an a low tone, as though just for himself, "I've got to remember to go to that guy again, now _that's_ how Fairy Dust ought to be!" He did a brief and amusing dance before settling down. "Anyhoo... we're all here now, I think we can safely say we'll have some _great _times this year." He glanced down at Scarlet who, oddly enough, turned scarlet. "Now, you saw our guests from Dumbstrangers and Cutestix. Each of them will be like one of us during their stay for the Tree-Whizzer Tournament."

There were several whispers, nearly all of which involved the words, 'killed by a tree last time'. The two that didn't, however, were hardly story appropriate.

"The Tree-Whizzer Tournament happens only once every seventy years, and, as it happens, was cancelled due to grim deaths over four-hundred years ago. However - "

Humbebore was cut off by yet another flurry of excited whispers filling the Hall.

"However," he continued, looking happier than he ought to. It was definitely the drugs. "The staff and I have decided that, with the proper precautions, the death toll can be kept in the acceptable range of only a few dozen." He nodded at each of the several people seated on either side of him and even winked at Hackered.

"Only a few dozen!?" Terry could hear Ho Bang squeak from across the room.

"The tournament will consist of three incredibly dangerous tasks to be taken on by the each of the champions. A champion will be selected from each school – Mr. Filth?" He called to a shrivelled old man standing in the entrance to the Hall. He looked positively stung about something. Perhaps it was the way his trousers came up so close to his derrière? Such a fancy word for a simpleton. We'll just call him an arse.

The Arse came clunking a very large, pink, frilly trunk down the aisle between tables. On occasion, _frequently, _his peg leg hit against the marble of the floor, sending a spine-chilling screech through the room.

"A champion will be selected from each school by this," Humblebore continued, unlatching the trunk immediately as the Arse set it down on its end. "Ta da!"

There was ancient, giant beer mug that had undoubtedly been used frequently, perhaps constantly. Beneath it, pinched under its rim, was a crystalline-looking undergarment.

"Oh, sorry, that's mine," he chuckled nervously, swiping the beer mug and hiding it expertly by tucking it into the folds of his large cloak.

He cast his hand forward and spoke with a booming voice.

"The Thong of Ice!"

The Hall somehow managed to keep silent.

"If you wish to participate in the tournament, all you need do is write your name on a strip of tissue, and cast it into the Thong by this Thursday evening."

Professor Weaver looked thoroughly impressed that Owlbus had managed to deliver so many intelligible words in a row, especially with how many various drugs Terry suspected were in his system.

"Students of all ages will be accepted, of course, but be warned, if you feel you do not yet possess the whizzery prowess necessary to compete, do not enter. If you are selected, there is no backing out."

"Ooh," said an older boy named Dred. "So scary."**  
**

"Not nearly as scary as that Birdscat girl, what's her name?" said another named Forge. "Sola Ng. Enthanxfralthfish?" He shuddered involuntarily, closing his eyes as he cringed. "Circe, just saying her name makes me feel like all the dolphins in the ruddy world are going to start flying into the sky."

"Is she the one that wears urinal cakes as earrings?" Dred asked, looking at his twin with a very curious glance.

"That's the one," Forge affirmed. "She also sells them as dog breath mints."**  
**

"Dog breath mints?" Terry questioned, looking back and forth between the two as Harmonia shifted to find a more suitable niche for her forehead on his torso.

"They work surprisingly well, actually," Forge said happily.

"Yeah," Dred scoffed. He leant inward to whisper so that only Terry (and, of course, Harmonia) could hear him. "He uses them before dates with _the ladies. _He hopes to snag a few of those Cutestix broads before sundown."

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hope you enjoyed this latest instalment. Please review!


	11. 10: Sola Enthanxfralthfish

**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
**A _Harry Potter _Parody

* * *

Chapter Ten – Sola Enthanxfralthfish

* * *

Terry shifted in his place on the large recliner in the Lionarse common room. The common room was enormous. Lavender and gold dominated the décor – the tapestries all were brilliant shades of liliac with a gentle weaving of golden thread for colour - and Harmonia didn't care about any of it.

She sat on Terry's lap, half-asleep, half randy. She clearly was struggling to stay awake; her eyes would close themselves and, a moment later, she'd shake herself awake again.

"Harmonia," Terry said softly. It really was getting late and he was beginning to feel the effects of the long day. "you should go to bed. I think I probably ought to as well."

She mumbled something in his chest and groaned when he made an attempt to stand. Grimacing, he stroked the hair away from her face.

"We have class tomorrow, Harmonia," Terry whispered.

At once Harmonia came 'back to life' as though just rejuvenated by his words. She sat up far too quickly, then stood, grabbing Terry by the wrist as she dragged him up the staircase leading to the girl's dormitories – or at least that's what it had been labelled.

"At least we're going to bed," Terry grumbled as he struggled to keep in step with her fast pace. As the words spilled from his mouth, Harmonia pinned him to the wall and kissed him passionately. For having only recently passed her seventeenth birthday, her kiss was superb - not that Terry knew her kiss from any others, of course... (Well, there was aunt Marginal, but she doesn't count. Wretched bitch.)

"That's going to have to do for now," Harmonia said, panting as she tore her mouth from his. "I'm much to tired for any proper exercise."

Terry raised an eyebrow.

"I'll go, then..." he trailed off, not sure if she'd let him go.

She didn't. The second he prepared to turn, she, once again, had him against the wall.

"And let Rongfore get in on you? As if," she whispered concernedly. She tilted her head as if puzzled by his confusion and the expression on his face that was a sickening mixture of disgust and disturbance. "I've seen the way he looks at you," she growled sensually.

"Then, where am I going to sleep, then?" Terry asked, _knowing _the answer.

"With me," she said cheerfully, swinging the door to the second year girls' dormitory open. There were only two beds. One empty, the other with two girls (he suspected one to be Scarlet) and a male Terry was sure had been sorted into Snakepiss earlier.

Harmonia stood at the front of her bed and began to remove her clothing.

"What are you doing?" Terry swallowed thickly.

"Preparing for bed. Surely you've slept before?"

"Not... like this...," Terry managed. He hazarded a step in the direction of the enormous four-poster bed. Like the common room, it was bright lavender and gold. Touching the curtain nearest to him, he noted that it was made of fine velvet.

This was going to be a very good night's sleep, even if he was sharing it with another human, and even if that other human was an attractive, sweaty brunette with a desire for Terry the size of Cleveland. Usually, the only creatures brave enough to venture onto his sleeping rug had been Mary, Gary, Larry, Jerry, Barry, Carrie, Fairy, Harry, and Perry – the rats. He knew each of them by name.

"You must be terribly tired," Harmonia said with only a faint hint of sarcasm, "having never slept and all."

"Yeah..."

He felt marginally relieved as she slipped into a jumper, then terrified as she slid beneath the covers and bade him welcome to her bed.

* * *

Though Terry wasn't entirely sure about the existence of Heaven, if there were one, _this _mattress with _this _girl (who had somehow managed to end up wrapped in his arms) beside him had to be it.

Despite the lovely, rejuvenating sleep, something had woken Terry, and it wasn't Harmonia's warm breath on his neck. She, fortunately, was still fast asleep.

"Hi," said a voice. He turned his head to see a bright blonde before him. Her form was arguably better than Harmonia's, he noted, taking a momentary glance at her bright blue jumper. "You're Terry, right?"

Terry nodded in the darkness of the time in which _normal _people did the strange thing called _sleep._

"I'm Sola," she chirped excitedly, offering her hand. She didn't seem at all offended that Terry felt too lazy and tired to offer his. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in some dog breath mints."

Terry groaned, setting his head back down against Harmonia.

"I can make it worth your while," Sola said, without the slightest hint of desperation. Terry groaned again. Was there another female so anxious to get with him?

"I... can... I can sell you two for the price of one!" she stammered, sighing when he didn't respond. "Please?" she added, placing her small hand on his shoulder, narrowly missing Harmonia's.

Terry shifted his way out of Harmonia's grasp and sat-up on the edge of the bed. Sleepily, he rubbed his eyes and stared at the blonde before him. She wore a grimace and a large red earring on each ear.

"Thanks," Sola whispered, then grabbed his wrist – something that was becoming increasingly common among the ladies on campus – and tugged him outside of the dormitory door.

"Something _really _strange is going on here," she said as they made it out of earshot. While she didn't pin him to the wall as Harmonia had, but she did keep him uncomfortably close to it (and was doing nothing to remedy his discomfort, though Terry suspected she did desire to).

Yes. Something strange _was, _indeed, going on here, Terry noted. A _strange _girl turned up at two in the morning with _strange _earrings, and a _strange ... _forget analogies. She's strange.

"And what would that be," Terry humoured her.

"Well, there's this voice, you see. And it keeps telling me to 'kill Bill'," she admitted.

As sleepy as Terry had been, he was now fully awake. Dred and Forge had told him she was on the stranger side of things, but schizophrenia hadn't come to mind. Not initially, at least.

"I'm not crazy," she insisted. "Actually, I'm probably one of the sanest people here," she added. She sounded sure of herself, but Terry wasn't quite up for believing her just yet.

"Why are you telling me all this?" he asked, letting himself slump backward against the wall.

"Because you're still pretty normal, too." She looked entirely serious and it was _not _April first.

"What do you mean 'still pretty normal'," Terry wondered aloud.

She got a little closer to him, allowing her lips to be separate from his ear by only a few short millimetres.

"People _change _here, Terry," she said worriedly. "I don't know _why _I haven't."

"So, the... the selling ... _mints _... thing... it's all a..."

"Façade, yes." Sola nodded. "If they think I'm crazy, they'll leave me alone."

"But what about the voices?" Terry asked, not really sure that he could trust the witch before him. Harmonia had seemed normal enough. Clingy, yes, obsessive, yes, but still normal. At least as normal as one can truly be. Normality is more concept than actuality.

"Voice," she corrected. "There is only one _voice_."

That did little to settle his uneasiness. He glanced this way and that, seeking an escape route if things were to turn sour. He had yet to receive any magical training and doubted he could so much as defend himself against anyone so determined as the girl before him.

"Ooh, Rong, Rong!" Terry heard a squeal from the neighbouring dorm. The voice sounded uncannily like Scarlet's. He tried to ignore it.

"Follow me," Sola whispered, ushering him to follow.

"He's not going anywhere," Harmonia said firmly – and loudly.

"Harmonia," Sola croaked, watching as the older girl took a few steps toward her. She swallowed thickly, backing herself up against the wall as Harmonia neared.

"Trying to steal _my _boyfriend?" Harmonia hissed. Sola looked terrified for a moment, then, like something out of a film, Terry could see an idea wash over her. He wasn't quite sure who to root for.

"Oh, I'm not trying to steal _him _from _you_," Sola said sensually. A wicked grin played on her face. This witch was a brilliant actress... he hoped. "I'm trying to steal _you _from _him._"

Sola leaned forward, placing her left heel against the wall, then leant forward and forced her lips onto Harmonia's. Rather than struggle and resist, Harmonia completely disarmed. She added her own passion to the kiss, placing her hands on Sola's cheeks, deepening the kiss intensely.

This startled Sola badly, but Harmonia pretended not to notice, choosing instead to break away for a breath of air.

"You got what you wanted," Harmonia said hotly; she was still quite close to Sola's face. Terry was unsure whether to run away screaming like a naked two-year old resisting clothing or to allow his amusement at the situation bubble to the surface. Sola had just _kissed _Harmonia and Harmonia had returned it.

Sola _had _been acting, of course. That much was obvious. Harmonia, on the other hand, he was not quite so sure. He'd hate to lose his first girlfriend to _another _girl. That would definitely be his kind of luck, though.

"Erm," Terry struggled. Sola took the moment to slip out from Harmonia's pin and hazard a few steps down the stairs.

"Acting," Harmonia said firmly when he looked at her. Sola nodded in disbelief.

There was a brief silence as Sola looked back at the group, taking a moment to glance at both Terry and Harmonia.

"You really do look cute together," she admitted. "But we've got to investigate."

"Investigate?" Harmonia was confused.

"Mhmm," Sola responded at once, merrily skipping down the steps to the common room.

All of them froze in their positions, not daring to take another step.

"Kill... Bill... Kill... Bill..."

Harmonia squeaked. "Did you hear that?"

Sola nodded quickly as she raced out the door to the main corridor, seeking the source of the noise. Terry and Harmonia followed after her. The voice was not just in Sola's head after all.

To anyone watching, the sight in the hall would look like the Trio were up to no good. And, whilst Terry suspected that no good could possibly come out of investigating a mysterious voice bent on 'killing Bill", here he was following a crazy young blonde who'd just kissed his girlfriend, with the latter trailing behind him.

Suddenly, the girl with the large earrings stopped. Before her was a curious green curtain.

"It sounds like it's coming from here," Sola said putting her hand on the curtain to pull it open.

"Wait," Harmonia squeaked. "What if it wants to.. like... you know... _rape _us?"

Terry fought back a laugh and put his arms re-assuringly around her.

"The voice just wants to kill Bill," Sola pointed out. "Why would it want to hurt us?"

Harmonia stared blankly at the girl before her, as though the answer could not be any more blatantly obvious.

"I think uncovering its hide-out could do that!" Harmonia squeaked again as Sola ignored her concerns and whipped open the curtains. Dust flew all over, blinding the Trio for a moment.

When the coughing stopped and the sneezing died down, and their visions cleared, they looked up to see a fuzzy white rabbit sitting in front of a microphone.

"What is this, Scooby-doo?" Harmonia asked, looking at the creature with distain.

"It's just a bunny rabbit."

"That's no ordinary rabbit," Terry said slowly as its head spun in circles several dozen times, its white fur turned brown and it grew and grew before their eyes. In the place of the rabbit was a tall man with dark hair – an exact duplicate of the monster in the wanted poster that Hackered had shown Terry.

"You must be Jo King White!" Terry exclaimed.

"No," the man said with a frown. "Why does everyone always assume I'm joking?"

Harmonia, Terry, and Sola all exchanged glances.

"So.. who are you, then?" Sola asked interestedly.

"Jo King White," he responded simply

"I said that!" Terry said indignantly. Harmonia put her chin on his right shoulder and her hand on his left to calm him.

"No, you said 'you must be _joking, right?'" _Jo King White said.

All three of the students groaned.


	12. 11: Divination Class With Bushgrasse

* * *

**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

* * *

**Chapter Eleven – Divination Class With Sandal Bushgrasse**

* * *

"So, like, you're Jo," Terry managed after a moment, having believed to have given himself ample time to return to sanity.

"I'm Jo King," said Jo King.

"Could we _please _knock it off with the puns!?" Harmonia growled. Both Sola and Terry nodded. It seemed the Jo King joke was getting a little old, perhaps a bit like Sirius that way. These are, after all, very serious matters.

"Why are you telling everyone to 'kill Bill'?" Jo King blinked innocently, staring back at Terry like a newborn rabbit.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're joking, right?" Sola snorted, looking at the man before her in disbelief. He could not, honestly, at least, have not heard the constant screeching of a most vile command.

"That's my name, don't wear it out," said the convict merrily.

"HONESTLY!" Harmonia shouted. Terry could feel her tensing by the firmness in her grasp on his hand. She had typically been very gentle about holding his hand, but, this, stress and annoyance, even if not targeted at him, affected him.

"Well, it's a bit painful," Terry admitted to the best person in the story. That's me, the Narrator, in case you're curious; not that there was ever any doubt, of course.

"Cut it out!" Sola screeched, causing the slow story to advance further. Just then, as if out of a film, Terry remembered an important plot device.

"Hackered showed me a picture of you. In a wanted sign. It said you're wanted for mass murder?"

"Never did it," the man said seriously. For being Jo King, he sure was serious a lot.

"You didn't?" Terry asked incredulously. He raised his eyebrows, staring at the man before him. There was a silent moment between them until Jo King belched.

"Nope," said Jo King plainly, content with the fashion in which the gases had left his stomach.

"Never did what?" Harmonia whispered distractedly, staring out the small gap between the curtain and wall at what Terry assumed was someone wandering in the corridor. At her urging, the group began to whisper.

"Commit murder," Mr. White said in a hushed voice. "I'm just an 'armless 'lil bunny rabbit."

"Armless?"

"Yeah, and I'm Tim the Enchanter," Sola snapped, glaring at the man. "Why are you here? Why are you in this school?"

The whole group went completely silent as a voice echoed through the halls.

"It's quiet here," said Owlbus Humblebore in a rather slurred string of words; he weaved through the corridor, leaning on the occasional suit of armour only to cause it to fall. "What a shame."

"I'm a spy," confided Jo King.

Sola was persistent. At this particular moment, Terry felt relieved that Harmonia, however clingy and demanding she appeared, was no where near as determined as Sola. He would not have gotten any of the sleep he had tonight.

"A spy for whom?" she asked, prodding for every last detail she could get from the man. No one would ever cheat, or so much as _think _about cheating, on Sola and get away with it. She seemed far less strange than Dred and Forge had claimed. Perhaps her eccentricity really was just a simple façade to rid herself of those with which she did not wish to associate.

"I feel a song coming on," said Humblebore merrily from the halls. He, somehow, had managed to end up stuck to a torchlight. He did a little jig.

"Hotwarts."

"Hotwarts?"

"As if warts weren't bad enough," Harmonia grumbled, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

"Hotwarts, yes," Jo King said, looking interestedly at the microphone in front of him, rather like he had never seen it before. "It's a school in America where people pretend they're British."

"And why would they do that?" Sola asked, half laughing.

"They have no lives," Jo King said seriously, pausing for a moment before he added, "but it pays the bills."

"Right..." Sola said slowly, leaning against Terry. The little room that had been available was suddenly very crowded. "And... why are you spying for them... what are you ... getting?"

"Just cultural things, mostly. Humblebore's liking for Fairy Dust and Purple-Spotted Mushrooms – when it went to America," the rabbit-man said, " it was... how did they put it, 'all the rage'".

"So, you're not British?" Sola inquired.

"No, of course I'm not," Jo King White laughed maniacally. Terry felt himself shudder involuntarily when he thought about the possibility of being caught. He didn't know what could happen to him, except that it had to be terrible. "Why do you think I have this outrageous accent, you silly boy?" the man laughed.

"Look," Harmonia said sternly, "you're not supposed to be here. I can have you thrown from the grounds."

"OH! I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts," came Humblebore's cheerful song, "dee-dull-ee-dee! There they are standing in a row! Big ones, small ones..." he stopped; the hall was quiet for nearly a full second. "Why can I never remember the words?"

"You honestly think _he _is going to do something about me?" the convict said, grinning.

"He got Lauren Malhorry thrown out," Terry exclaimed.

"She's in here all the time," Harmonia and Jo King said at the same time. The latter continued, "surprised she's not been here in the last few hours, actually."

"Big ones, small ones, ones as big as my head! No, no. That can't be right."

Sola and Harmonia glanced at one another as their tone-deaf headmaster continued to sing to himself. Terry swore he could see a small grin on Sola's face when they heard Humblebore free himself. There was a loud crash and a muffled "mmph".

"Look," said Jo King, "it's getting late and you all have classes tomorrow. Just head on to bed."

Sola persisted, tearing her gaze from Harmonia to look back at Mr. White. "You never answered our question about why you're trying to get people to kill Bill. Who is he anyway?"

"I seriously have no clue what you're talking about," the man insisted. As he did so, Terry began to feel rather light-headed. Jo King morphed once again before his eyes, changing back into the fuzzy white rabbit they had met upon moving the tapestry.

Terry blinked. Suddenly, everything changed.

He was no longer standing in a hidden crevice in the hallway, but laying intimately with the small female body beside him – and another body behind him who jolted upward and outward, covering herself with a blanket.

"What – where did – why am I _naked?" _Sola squeaked. It was then that Terry noticed both he and Harmonia were as well. "We didn't _do _anything_, _did we?"

Harmonia and Terry shook their heads in unison.

"Some as big as your head! That's it! That's it!" Once again, it was Humblebore's voice. It grew more and more distant till it faded out into the night. "I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts..."

They each gasped.

"Come on," Harmonia said lazily, flopping back down against the bed. "There's no use now, just get back in bed and we'll deal with this in the morning."

Sola shook her head in the negative, tugging the blanket up closer to her chest, and made for the door. As she reached for the handle, a familiar voice echoed through through their ears.

"Kill... Bill... Kill... Bill..."

Squeaking loudly, she bolted away and raced under the covers, clinging tightly to Terry and Harmonia.

"Fine," she croaked, "I'll stay."

* * *

Breakfast was a quiet affair. None of the Trio was entirely sure what had happened the night before and, save for a few sneaked glances between patrons, each member remained silent at breakfast till, at Harmonia's urging, they left for class.

Divination was today's first lesson.

Terry walked in silence with Harmonia up the seven-thousand eight-hundred forty-two (yes, he counted) stairs that led up to the top of the tower where the Divination professor's lessons would be held.

He was quite out of breath when he reached the top. Even Harmonia looked a little woozy.

Sola came from out of no where it seemed, and took to Terry's side immediately.

"I took the lift," she said happily, curling her hair behind her ear and re-adjusting the books in her arms. Harmonia frowned a little, Terry looked frazzled. "Shall we go to class?"

"Hee hee hee!" came an extremely high-pitched voice racing through the hall. Terry turned, and, like so many others, was witness to a shady ghost figure racing, floating behind an unfamiliar man. At that moment, by his clothing, Terry judged him to be the new Defence Against the Snark Arts professor.

As he made that correct judgement, the man was tossed down the stairs by the owner of the squeaky voice. Harmonia whispered its name in his ear. Steve the Fauxfan was its name.

"Now I'm free to write a book about it – about what ever I want!" he cackled merrily, putting his words to a song-like tune. "It's all mine!"

"I swear that job is cursed," Sola said in a hushed voice. Terry nodded, robotically following Harmonia as she led him to Divination.

"Yes, professor," said Scarlet, "I'll go duel with you in just a moment." She was speaking to a thoroughly plastered Owlbus Humblebore. Slipping a large (and nearly empty) bottle of brandy into her book bag, she stood and led the professor away.

"He won't duel me unless he's drunk," she explained to Indy, who stood beside her. "He insists on duelling people his own age. I told him the only way for me to learn is to duel someone better. So... I get him drunk occasionally and have a go."

She sounded far too excited about duelling – whatever that was, but took off.

"Sorry, Terry," Harmonia said sadly. She leant forward and kissed each of his cheeks and his lips, "but I've my own classes to go to." She looked at Sola appraisingly. "Behave."

Harmonia turned to face Sola and gave her her own set of kisses. Sola resisted at first, but simply stood still to accept as Harmonia's lips met hers.

Harmonia took her steps down the stairs, gradually disappearing till Terry could, of her, see no more.

Sola nudged him to enter the classroom. Inside, there were large bean bag chairs, all of which were a vibrant blue, purple, or pink. The room smelled of decaying matter with a hint of musk and month-old cabbage. All around the room in deep red were the words, "THEY ARE COMING!" written over and over. It was quite horrifying, actually.

Sola pretended not to be bothered.

A very old woman with short and thinning gray hair stepped forward to greet them, offering a shaking hand. She grinned a very quirky grin and bade them entrance, winking at Sola as she passed.

As class began, the professor, Sandal Bushgrasse as she called herself, insisted they begin with the basics of Divination and begin their studies with the crystal ball. Each desk had two identical crystal balls placed distinctly opposite each other. Occasionally, she'd slap herself between words – and her whole personality would change. One minute, she was like Jerry from _Survivor_ and the next she was like the victim in _The Exorcist._

All that was coupled with the nearly constant distraction of Sola casting him bashful glances or attempting to sneak holding his hand. At one point, she'd even dropped her pen into his lap, very likely purposefully. Terry just smiled back at her when she smiled and tried to continue on like it was a normal day. Perhaps, if he paid no attention to what were very clearly sexual advances, she'd give up.

Darn her characterisation. She's just not one to do that.

"Oooh... you have the Grin!" said his professor, gazing into his balls. The balls at his table, that is.

"The Grim?"

"No, not the Grim you idiot, the Grin!" Professor Bushgrasse snapped bitterly, swatting the students' hands away from the brightened crystal ball before him.

"Oh, how terrible!" Indy Indyano squeaked, turning to snog the hermaphrodite beside her.

Terry was a little confused, to say the least, and Sola didn't look much more on top of things than he did. She had one hand flipping through her textbook whilst the other was clear from his sight.

"What's wrong with the Grin?"

"It's the best of all omens!"

"Best? Then what's wrong with it?"

"It means," said the boy named Prince Train in a very creepy voice; his eyes spun around in his head, "that you'll have a minimum of three extremely attractive girls flocking after you."

Terry tallied them, the extremely attractive girls, up on his fingers. The truly persistent ones, Harmonia, Hickey, and Sola were quite obviously taken with him and, though they had yet to make themselves as clingy and lustfully desirous of him as the aforementioned shapely females, Ho and Scarlet certainly were not excludable from the list of possibilities.

"And it also means that you'll impregnate at least one of them before you bite the bullet," added Shameus Ireman who, wearing nearly all green and a four-leafed clover in his hair, looked distinguishably French.

"Well, that's comforting," Terry laughed lightly. Sola glanced at him for a moment before blushing. She knew Harmonia would kill her if she knew where her hands were now. Terry hadn't even noticed.

"What the ruddy hell is a bullet?" asked Hickey curiously. Her head spun in random circles as she tried to steady the orb in front of her.

"A female bull."

"Oh, right," someone said, enlightened by the revelation.

"Honestly," Prince Train chuckled. As his laughter began to fade, there was an enormous crash from down in the main hall. Racing down the many steps after their professor, the group managed to make it to the ground floor in _about _3.1415926535898 seconds... ish.

There were many men running around with large sticks in their hands, firing spell after spell at those who dared to come near them. Just in the entryway lay Scarlet Gray. Her robes had been kicked away from her feet and her blouse had been unbuttoned.

A very short man entered through the large double doors. He pushed them outward so that he could step through, then was shot backward as they made to close themselves.

Trying again to enter the palace, he succeeded. Many of the men, who wore costumes that looked peculiarly like 'Muddy' exterminator's uniforms, turned to look at him and bowed to him.

One such man became incredibly excited.

"She's a bitch, can we bone her?" he asked.

"Well, how do you know she is a bitch?" said the short man. Terry had suspicions that this man, who could not have been over a foot in height, was the Snark Lord Holeyshorts. (A suspicion made semi-proven by the hole in the lad's jeans.)

"She's dressed like one!"

"I'm not a bitch! I'm not a bitch!" Scarlet protested, struggling against her magical bonds. "They undressed me like this..."

"Did you undress her like this?" the Snark Lord asked.

"Nope," said one man.

"Nope," said another.

"A bit," added the first.

"Maybe just a little," amended the second.

"We did undo the blouse," admitted the first.

"And took her robes off," said the second, fidgeting with his belt. He, like his comrades, wore a shiny red sticker that said "Maggot Chewer".

"But she has got pink knickers!"

* * *

**Author's Note: **I hope that was an enjoyable chapter and look forward to your thoughts in a review!


	13. 12: From the Thong of Ice

* * *

**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

* * *

**Chapter Twelve – From the Thong of Ice**

* * *

The Maggot Chewer attack lasted little more than the initial chaos, thankfully. A new professor on campus, the _third _Defence Against the Snark Arts professor, happened to have a villain-strength canister of Rayd pest defence spray in his left coat pocket.

All of the many Maggot Chewers had run out of the palace, led by their particularly panicked leader, the Snark Lord Holeyshorts, who, though he struggled to reach a full foot in height, possessed a frightening demeanour – when he wasn't running away, of course.

Just outside the palace doors, however, stood a familiar face. Lauren Malhorry and her many rolls of fat leaned against the left door. Her breathing was slightly erratic, as though she had just participated in extremely strenuous exercises and her face was a bright, cherry red. In her hands was a thin, blue book. Terry could barely make out the title of the volume, but, from what he could see, the word 'satanic' was present at least twelve times in a silver colour.

"THIS SCHOOL IS SATANIC!" she managed, shouting to the lake and forest. "WE AS PARENTS HAVE TO DO SOMETHING TO SAVE THESE CHILDREN'S SOULS." She took a deep, gasping breath, then repeated herself.

"Leave her alone, children," said Professor Weaver, ushering students away from the doors. "She isn't quite _there_."

"I'd bet no one in a kilometre cares about her garbage," said one student, tapping his mate on the shoulder. She squirmed a bit, ducking out of his range.

"Somehow, I don't really think _anyone _cares about her garbage," the girl replied.

"YOU PLAGIARISED THAT BOOK!" screeched a woman in the distance, conveniently wearing a 'my name is' badge on her left pocket. Her name was Namby Stuffer. "THOSE ARE _MY _WORDS – "

"I stand corrected," said the girl.

"God?"asked Lauren Malhorry sincerely, looking toward the sky as the woman came closer. She clearly believed the voice was coming from the heavens. She lowered the book at her side, giving Terry a quick glance at its full title. _God Told Me About A Satanic School and We Should Save Our Children From Its Satanic Grasp, Its Satanic Teachings, Its Satanic Staff, and Its Satanic Lavatory, Not To Mention Its Satanic Fantasy Magic, Its Satanic Anti-Biblism, ... _the list went on and on. In fact, the title wound onto the back cover.

"Everyone into the hall!" shouted Humblebore excitedly, dusting his robes as he called everyone into the Great Hall. "The Thong is about to reveal its contents!"

Many enthusiastic people scurried in behind him and took their seats immediately at their house tables. Humblebore stuck his face near the thong, not quite going all the way in. It glowed an incredibly bright red as it spewed a small puff of smoke into the air which read, "Fougueux Tropdeseins".

A woman with silver-coloured hair stood from the Birdscat table and stood beside Humblebore, only a few short inches from the thong. Her hair hung over it teasingly, causing Humblebore to whimper softly.

As Humblebore began searching his pockets for his next fix, there was another name cast into the air.

"Verlierer Mürbe," Humblebore read aloud. One of the Dumbstrangers students stood and took his place beside Fougueux and Owlbus. As he did, a third name rose from the thick smoke.

"TERRY GARDNER," said the smoke – in all caps, too, in fact. Needless to say, Terry was a bit startled to see his name, let alone have it yelled at him by smoke. He had not placed his name in the thong and hadn't gone anywhere near it, in fact. He looked for a moment at Harmonia who shook her head, then at Sola who did the same. Rongfore, across the table, nodded subtly.

"How come your name wasn't called, Rong?" said Scarlet, nearly every part of her rubbing against Rong's body. Her eyes twinkled.

"Fucking pussy!" exclaimed Shameus Ireman.

"I am not!" Rongfore said quickly, nearly flying out of his seat. After a few seconds of processing what Shameus said, he calmed down some and re-took his seat. "Oh... you mean... well, I'm not that, either..."

"Oooh! Wong-Wong!" Scarlet squealed, leaning in for a kiss. She frowned when he put forth no effort to received it. "Is something wrong, Wong-Wong?

He mumbled a response, which only earned more squealing. Giving a terrified rendition of a smile to each Harmonia and Sola, who sat beside him, Terry left for his spot beside the other 'champions'. They looked far more like talentless baboons than champions, however.

"We now have our three ch – " Humblebore cut-off, watching horrified for a moment as Fougueux's hair began to smoke, then caught fire. The girl began to scream shaking her head vigorously, which only caused the flames to grow larger.

"Oh, for Circe's sakes," groaned Professor Weaver, whipping out her twig and wiggling it. "Jus Talil Blas Tawad Er," she added, and a spray of water killed the flames instantly.

"It... it seems to have melted," Humblebore said sadly, looking at the puddle of water where his most-prized thong used to stand. "It's melted..."

* * *

Following the chaos of the Cutestix champion's hair catching on fire from the Thong of Ice, Humblebore had enthusiastically announced, whilst snorting twelve ounces of crack, that the challenge for the Tri-Whizzer tournament would be reaching a flag in the centre of the labyrinth.

In the common room that night, Terry began to explain away his plans to make it through the labyrinth. Showing Harmonia and, through clever use of lighting, a well-hidden Sola his crazy and desperate plans. Needless to say, Terry was tired, afraid, suffering from the after effects of being in Humblebore's proximity, and ready to call it a day. He couldn't, unfortunately. The challenge was the very next day.

"Let me get this straight... your plan to save the world somehow involves you, me, Harmonia, duct tape, and French fries?" Sola asked in a highly concerned voice, looking at Terry with a terrified expression.

"However," Terry said, raising one finger into the air, "not necessarily in that order."

Sola frowned. Perhaps he'd succumbed to the the weirdification of the palace.

"What about chips?" Harmonia asked, looking at Terry with a very serious look about her face.

Terry shook his head. "They just don't have the strength for this kind of mission."

Terry sat back in his seat; Harmonia clung as closely to him as she could manage, nuzzling his neck lovingly. Sola didn't look pleased.

"DOES ANYBODY HAVE A SPARE BOTTLE OF RANCH-STYLE DRESSING?" Sola shouted at the top of her lungs, caring little that she didn't belong in the Lionarse common room.

"You want _Ranch _now?" Harmonia half-laughed, half-asked; this was the only time Harmonia ever half-asked anything in her life. "Who, seriously, is going to have an American salad dressing in a private school in the middle of nowhere in _Scotland_?"

Nearly every student in the vicinity raised a bottle of the creamy white ranch-style dressing into the air. Sola took a quick moment to examine their labels.

"A lot of people, apparently," Terry said in amazement.

"I'll take the Secret Plains kind," Sola said, motioning for the owner of the largest bottle to come forward. She took it quickly and stuffed it into her robes."Thanks,"

"And how is that going to help me?" Terry asked, raising his eyebrows.

"You'll see," Sola said simply, kissing each Harmonia and Terry briefly before walking out of the common room and up the stairs to the dormitories. "You'll see."

Terry had a strong urge to follow her.

* * *

"Okay, here's the plan," Harmonia began enthusiastically the next morning as they walked out to the labyrinth. She looked like she'd been up the entire night professing just what to do and say. "You're going to go inside the labyrinth in a tutu. As long as you keep dancing, Lord Holeyshorts will be entranced and, thus, rendered immobile," she offered, raising a very vibrant, fuchsia-coloured skirt in front of his face. "When you get close enough to him... jump on him and hug him like he's never been hugged before... which, judging by the way he still sucks his thumb, is rather likely." Terry wondered how she knew the last bit of information, but simply nodded in response. "He'll be so surprised he'll have a heart attack and die! Wonderful, isn't it?"

"What would I do without you, Harmonia?" Terry said gratefully.

"Snog and shag Hickey to your heart's content," Sola chirped sarcastically, watching as the red-head in question attempted desperately to force her way through the crowd of people to be closer to Terry. Several of Terry's more persistent fan girls refused to budge, however, and Hickey began to resort to screeching in people's ears to make her way forward.

"Sounds tempting," Terry said playfully, grinning at everyone around him. Harmonia gave him a look of disapproval.

"She's my sister!" Rongfore protested loudly. His eyes were wide with horror at the thought that anyone other than he and his brothers would touch her.

"Ooh... doubly so...," Terry said quickly, trying to hold back the laughter in his voice. At that moment, Terry turned to me, the narrator. "When do I start talking about the beast in my chest.. Narrator?"

"Hmm?" I said simply, waiting for him to continue.

The entire audience went silent, observing as Terry had a conversation with the invisible being in the sky. Me, that is, not the one that whack-job Lauren Malhorry keeps trying to have conversations with. She really does need to learn that clouds can't talk, no matter how badly she wants them to.

"When do we talk about the beast in my chest that has a thing for Hickey?"

"That's Alien, dearest," I said kindly, trying to push the story along. There was getting to be a little too much of the romantic push.

"Drat."

"How do we know the Snark Lord's even in there?" Harmonia asked. It really was a good question. The labyrinth rules said nothing of meeting the Snark Lord, yet most of the cleverly devised plans had everything to do with the obnoxious midget.

"He.. does that really matter?" Sola said, looking at Terry with worry. "He's the crazed villain. He has to be in there." She took a deep breath and sighed. "It's part of his contractual obligations or something."

"I have a better idea!" Harmonia squeaked excitedly, putting her hand down the front of her robes. She fidgeted for some time before pulling something out of them. A pair of two golden orbs rested in the palm of her hand.

"And what would those be?"

"The Philanderer's Stones!" she said. No one was quite sure why she had them. Everyone did, however, note that some way, some how, they were important to the story.

Nearby, Prince Train pulled a scroll from his sock. It looked ancient and tattered, as though it had been eaten away at by insects.

"_The ancient study of infidelity is concerned with making the Philanderer's Stones, a fascinating pair of gold-plated balls of stone which have extraordinary power. The Stones can transform anything into pure mould," _he read from a convenient plot device._  
_

"Mould?" Terry wondered allowed. "Who the hell wants mould?" He'd been around enough mould in his youth to grow a rather strong dislike for the colourful stuff.

Harmonia and Prince glared.

"Go on," he mumbled apologetically.

_"It also produces the Elixir of Vitality, which, if the origins of the substance where revealed, would bump this story's rating up to mature, but can reveal the imbiber's true love."_

"Sounds cool, so... how does that help us?"

"Wouldn't go anywhere without stuffing them into my pocket first," Harmonia said quickly. Smiling at her _de facto _boyfriend. Nearly every other girl in the vicinity looked ready to kill as she kissed his cheek..

Several of the males gave disturbed nods.

"That still doesn't explain how this is going to help us," Sola began, only to be cut off by Harmonia.

"You see it all begins with..."

* * *

**Author's Note**: That chapter was a little on the random side of things, but, what with will happen next chapter, it's quite tame, I think. Thank you for reading – please tell me what you think in a review and be sure to participate in the poll on my profile!


	14. 13: The Labyrinth of Doom

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**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen – The Labyrinth... of Doom**

* * *

Harmonia went on with her nonsense for nearly ten minutes before Sola had the sense to knock her out with a quick blow to the head with a banana. And before you ask, yes. A banana. It kept her silence and subdued as a reporter with abnormally large spectacles worked her way through the thousands of students and spectators.

The Labyrinth, which consisted entirely of partially decomposed rat faeces, was behind him as he was pulled to face the wild-looking woman.

"Skeet Skeetre with the _Hourly Prognosticator_," she said. It must be mentioned that she insist I spell her surname with an 're' rather than the 'er' present in all the legal documents surrounding her existence. "You must be Terry Gardner," she added with a miserable impression of a British accent. Lousy American reporter.

Terry nodded. Sola blinked, a blank expression on her face.

"KILL BILL!" shouted Hickey Weaklebee, flying down from somewhere in the sky, descending on Skeet Skeetre like a ravenous wolf to its prey. She began to tear into Skeet's scalp with her teeth.

"HICKEY!" screeched Terry and Sola simultaneously. In a desperate move to save the reporter he barely knew, he slapped Hickey across the face.

At once, it seemed, Hickey became calm and peaceful again; her bright brown eyes glowed lightly in the morning sun as she looked up at Terry, scarlet streams of freshly drawn blood streaming down her chin.

"So sorry. Dozed off," she said. "What've I missed?"

"You killed a reporter!"

"I'm not dead yet!" said Skeet Skeetre, who raised her hand shakily from her place on the grassy ground. Her head looked as though it had been mauled at by a pack of lions.

"Oh, Terry! Terry!" squeaked Ho Bang as she raced toward the boy whose name she squealed at the top of her lungs. As she came near, she passed over Skeet Skeetre's body; the life within seemed to dwindle except for a brief moment just before the blades of Ho's stilettos penetrated Skeetre's voice box. "Terry!" she gasped, trying to persuade him into her arms so that she could force him into a kiss. His eyes widened. Hickey looked ready to kill, as did Sola.

At that precise moment, Harmonia awoke and was met face to face with an excitable Scarlet Gray who, it turned out, though it wasn't really surprising, had just spent most of the previous night with Rongfore Weaklebee.

Harmonia pulled Ho away from Terry, taking the brief moment of his freedom to her advantage as she claimed him for her own.

As she said those words, a loud grunt came from the edge of the Labyrinth in which one girl seemed particularly fond of the rat faeces.

"Never mind her," Harmonia said dismissively as both Sola and Terry stared on with disgusted faces. This girl was making out with what was essentially a large pile of rat crap. "Enluve Witherbrother has always been rather keen on the erotica – rather like Chyler Leigh that way."

"Oh, you think she's bad?" Scarlet said; she led Harmonia away from Terry, who sighed a little in relief. "Have you met Hazex Withizcat?"

"No, I can't say that I have."

* * *

For the moment, Terry seemed free of everyone but Sola, whose company he somewhat enjoyed, though in only a minute he would leave her, too, and enter the Labyrinth. He stared into the dark entrance with a bit of fear. If he went in, he may be unable to find his way out again.

"Now," Humblebore shouted, the headmasters of the other schools behind him. Gitskild Barfsalot looked somewhat nervous and nauseous, but Padmus Maxi was very sure of herself and her school's champion. "We've all gathered out here to – one moment," he paused, dug through his bag, pulled out a large, purple-spotted mushroom and took an enormous bite, "We've all gathered here to watch as the champions get themselves into some deep crap." How fitting, considering what the Labyrinth had been made from. "So... when I count to three, all ... three of the champions will enter the Labyrinth at their designated starting location."

Terry nodded.

"Nervous?" Sola asked, a little shaky herself. Harmonia was still nowhere in sight, apparently still off with Scarlet.

"Yeah," Terry croaked.

"Don't be," she responded simply, giving a sweet smile as Humblebore began to count.

"ONE!" he shouted.

"Good luck," she swallowed, not very sure of his chances herself.

"TWO!" shouted the headmaster.

"Thanks," Terry gasped.

"FIVE!"

The general response to this was a loud "huh?" from the audience, to which Humblebore gave a very puzzled expression and leaned to the side. Professor Weaver had tapped his shoulder.

"Oh!" he nodded. "THREE!"

As though he hadn't the choice, Terry raced inside the Labyrinth. It was disgusting. The walls were nearly ten feet in height and smelled worse than chicken that spent the summer stewing in the sun. He held his nose, winding the first corner where he was met with a familiar face.

"Sola?"

She nodded simply then walked straight at him.

"Okay," she said, leading him through the part of the maze with which she seemed familiar. "I can guarantee you that _he's _in here. I've just had a quick look around."

"How?"

"Nevermind that, we have a plot to advance," Sola said quickly. She spent the next several minutes laying out a clever and eloquent plan that no one not a genius could have concocted.

"So he just needs to get laid?" Terry asked, looking at her with a curious expression.

"Yep, simple as that," she said with a lightness to her voice that made him want to draw near. She wore a smile that could have made straight females long to grace her lips with their own, but Terry held back. He was already in a relationship – and it was not with this girl, no matter how beautiful she, suddenly, it seemed, had become to him.

"Well, I ain't doin' it," Terry said curtly. Sola frowned at his linguistic barbarism, but encouraged him forward with a simple nod to in front of her.

As he wandered through the endless this ways and thats within the Labyrinth, Terry found himself growing closer to Sola, as though he'd known her his entire life. As he rounded a particularly eerie corner, he came face to four-feet-above-face with the Snark Lord.

"Ah ha!" the Snark Lord said in an abnormally squeaky voice. "Now I've got you, you muddy-piss!" He drew a long black wand from within his robes. "Say good by to Ms. Twinkletoes." He raised his wand at Sola menacingly, as villains are so keen to do.

"You think you could escape the power of the _omnipotent_ Snark Lord Holyshorts but, alas, you have been thwarted, Gardner."

He continued his monologuing. Terry, growing impatient with both the 'Snark Lord' and his mistreatment of his friend, withdrew the Philanderer's Stones from within his jeans pocket and chucked them at the midget-man.

He did an elaborate turn, then fell backward will a dull 'thump'.

Sola leant over his motionless body, blinking several times in quick succession as the hard metal balls bounced up and down several times before rolling on the ground at the Snark Lord's side. "You think he's dead?"

"Oh, Circe," Ho gasped, appearing from nowhere. "Nothing turns me on like a character shield!"

"OH, GOOD GOD," Terry and Sola screamed at once, rolling their eyes. Both were furious. Ho had become far too irritating to get away with a polite remark."GET!" Sola's eyes met Terry's.

"Wank the cat," Ho said bitterly, turning on one heel as she vanished. At least he was rid of her. Even if it was just for the moment. Sola he could live with, even rather liked to have around. More than Harmonia, he was beginning to notice. She was less clingy, more genuinely loving, even though her expressions were far more subtle.

"Yeah, I think he's good and gone."

"Well, not good," Sola said simply, turning to Terry. She grimaced at him, pulling at his heartstrings. His hand yearned to reach for hers, but didn't. "But gone."

"And the trophy?"

"Hid it down my robes about an hour ago," Sola said, pulling an enormous trophy out from within her robes. Somehow, by Whizzery, he expected, he'd been unable to tell that it was present during the whole time he'd been with her. Which, if he'd had a watch on his person, he would have known to be four hours, ten minutes."It never actually made it into the Labyrinth – until I did, that is.. Humbebore didn't even notice." Her grimace grew to a wicked grin.

"Well, well," came a voice from the shadows. "If it isn't you two. Good to see you've rid yourself of Harmonia."

Terry's heart nearly stopped; even Sola, who was generally calm had been quite startled, clung to Terry in fright.

"She's pretty nice, actually," Terry said, trying to slow the beat of his heart to something below a number requiring scientific notation. Sola's proximity wasn't exactly supporting his effort.

"Clingy, _very _clingy." Tsked Jo King, leaning on a wall of rat faeces.

"She's not here because she doesn't know that I _am,_" Sola said proudly, looking up to Terry with an inexplicable gleam in her eyes.

"I see you have the trophy," Jo King said after a moment, eyeing the silver sphere-like object in Sola's hands.

"You can't have it," Sola said quickly, her eyes darting back and forth between Terry and Jo King. "We – he – got it fair and square," she lied.

"That's nice," said Jo King White. Terry needn't remind himself he was talking with a wanted man. The last time he'd spoken with him he had woken in bed naked with Sola and Harmonia. Oh, how awkward that had been. "I wouldn't want to keep my son from succeeding, now would I?"

"What?" Terry and Sola asked at once. Terry was significantly louder, however.

"I'm your father, Terry," Jo King White said simply, standing up straight from his relaxed position against the wall of the Labyrinth. Terry blinked several times in quick succession.

"My what?" said he in a shaky, disbelieving tone.

"Your father."

"O-kay," Terry said slowly, not really believing the man. Sola looked moderately amused. "Erm, hi?" Perhaps his parents didn't die in a jar of pickling solution like his Aunt and Uncle Deadbrains had told him. If this man truly was his father, did this mean his mother was alive, too?

"Well," said Mr. White, reading Terry's thoughts like all our favourite Gary Stus can, "I was the guy your mum slept with. The guy to whom she was married, Jamie, _did _die in the fire, and, well, so did she. But I'm your actual dad. Would've raised you myself if I weren't always on the run from those darned Demondoors." There was a loud sucking sound from the sky; Mr. White's face blanched. "I'd best be off," he said in a whisper, and faded away. "I'll see you 'round."

"Be seeing you, then," Terry mumbled, staring at the place where Mr. White had stood only the moment before.

He had to joking, right?

"Well," Terry said, shaking himself from what _had_ to be a daydream. "Let's head out, I guess..." He let his voice trail off. "You still have the trophy, right?"

Sola nodded.

* * *

Surprisingly, the journey to leave the Labyrinth was shorter than the one to do what was practically nothing, seeing as beating a gay midget's face in really had nothing to do with acquiring the trophy. Terry and Sola emerged from the Labyrinth to a magically lit camp, where all manner of people stood, waiting for the champions to arrive.

Sola took Terry's hand; he felt no need to resist – or, at least, no desire to until he heard a blood-curdling scream from Harmonia who raced up to him and began to screech at him.

"TERRY!" she screeched, "How could _you_!? I... _kissed_ you on the lips! The lips, Terry!" She did a fidgety dance-like squirm – the same motion a toddler does when they to not get what they want. "Our love is pure!" Some Random Person came up behind her and began to drag her away, failing twice to gag her with a rag. "Our love is – " She was cut off as something collided with the top of her head.

Terry tried to follow, as she was his friend, but was prevented doing so by a large crowd of excited students congratulating him on his victory.

"Right, then," came Some Random Person's voice in the distance. Terry was even more uneasy."Here's your ninepence."

"GOD-HATING, BASTARDS!" shouted a familiar voice from the castle as Lauren Malhorry wobbled down toward the group. "I LOVE CHILDREN, I LOVE THEM! YOU SATANIST BASTARDS!"

"AND THE WINNER OF THE TREE-WHIZZER TOURNAMENT IS," Humblebore yelled over the many voices of the students as he wiped the white dust from his robes. "TERRY GARDNER OF PIGZITS SCHOOL OF TWIG-WIGGLING, -AHEM-, and -AHEM-!"

"You said the name, you tit!" Weaver screeched, hitting her boss over the head with her handbag. "You can't say that name in a story that's rated 'Teen'."

"PLAGIARISED!" squawked Namby Stuffer as she raced after Mrs. Malhorry. "ALL OF IT!"

At that very moment, the very same short midget Terry believed to be dead emerged from the very spot he had, weaving his steps together like a drunken man.

"You!" growled the Snark Lord, growing nearer. The audience was silent. "You..." He slipped on a conveniently placed pile of Ranch dressing and exploded.

"Okay, is that a deus ex machina or what?"

Terry couldn't respond – everything to him felt increasingly more surreal, as though he had once again feasted on the delectable masterpiece that was the purple-spotted mushroom. The lids of his eyes grew heavy but, far from feeling like he was slipping into slumber, he felt as though he was waking from a dream...

"Is anyone still reading this crap?" I, the Narrator, ask you as you frown that you're hearing me in your head once again. "You are, seriously? Well, stick around for the epilogue. It should only be a couple hours. Unless that damned Parkinson girl hits me over the head again."

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**Author's Note**: Be sure to tell me what, and if, you liked this chapter in a lovely review! As the narrator says, the epilogue will be coming soon, so keep an eye out!


	15. Epilogue: Nineteen Seconds Later

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**Owlbus Humblebore and the Labyrinth of Doom  
****A **_**Harry Potter **_**Parody**

* * *

**Epilogue – Nineteen Seconds Later**

* * *

Terry awoke, rubbing his eyes as he yawned. He'd slept quite well tonight, he decided. When he opened his eyes, however, he discovered that he was not in his own bed, but his sister's.

He, being from a rich British family who lived in the Caribbean, could have anything he wanted. He rather wanted to be somewhere else at the moment.

"Damn, it was all a dream," he breathed, shaking his head as he prepared to leave. "Oh... I shouldn't be... why am I...?"

"Not all of it," said a sweet voice from beside him. Sola pulled him back down to the bed again. Her blonde hair shone in the dim light of night.

"Oh, come on, sis, you know the story can't end like this," Terry mumbled, not really wanting to resist.

"Too bad, we're happy now," Sola said forcefully, pulling her brother close against her. "Now is when it shall end."

"Oh, I beg to differ," he laughed, leaning down to kiss her tenderly like Chyler Leigh to Chris Khayman in _Kickboxing Academy._

"Fine, it can wait a moment," Sola said breathily. "But only a moment." She squealed excitedly beneath him, knocking the pile of purple-spotted mushrooms from the bedside table.

Lost to their own desires, they failed to see the people watching from the window; each held in their hand a notepad.

"Well, that ending was pretty fucked-up," said one man, slipping his pen behind his ear as his eyes widened.

"Yeah, but at least this shit is over and done with," said another man, shuddering as he backed away from the window. He rather wouldn't mind being hit by the train in platform nine at the moment.

"God, yes, thanks for that, at least," said a woman beside them who raised her hand to her mouth and raced off.

A third man raised his eyebrow and grinned wickedly at the two men who still knelt beside him. "Am I alone in finding this a little amusing?"

"I found it quite funny, actually," said a fourth man. Everyone glared at him, nearly missing a series of sated sighs from within the house before them.

Precisely one moment later, a certain pair of words appeared below this short, meagre paragraph. The terrifying six letters and one space brought with them a sense of doom. Thus, the story title is amended with the ever so terrifying "of Doom". Oh, yeah, and, for Terry and Sola, all was well.

* * *

**THE END**

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**Author's Note**: Hopefully, this epilogue helps us feel a little better about the one at the end of _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. _I really hope you all enjoyed this story and caught on to the many, many fanon and fandom-related jokes, as well as the countless _Monty Python and the Holy Grail _references. Tell me what you think: if you've favourited, alerted, have reviewed before, or are completely new to the story, I'd love to hear from you!


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